MADAME    ROLAND. 


BY 


MATHILDE    BLIND. 


BOSTON: 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY. 

i8o8. 


Copyright,  1886, 
By  Roberts  Brothers. 


University  Press: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Page 

I.   Childhood i 

II.    Sophie 15 

III.  Two  Queens 31 

IV.  Mother  and  Daughter 40 

V.    Manon's  Suitors 49 

VI.  Flight  to  the  Convent,  and  Marriage    .  72 

VII.  The  Clos  de  la  Platiere.  —  Journeys  to 

England  and  Switzerland 94 

VIII.  France  before  the  Revolution     ....  113 

IX.    The  Rights  of  Man 134 

X.  Madame  Roland  reveals  Herself.    ...  147 

XI.   The  Roland  Administration 173 

XII.    Dies  Ir,e 191 

XIII.  The  Republic 205 

XIV.  Madame  Roland  at  the  Bar  of  the  Con- 

vention   216 

XV.  Struggle  between  Mountain  and  Gironde  224 

XVI.   Fling  us  into  the  Abyss 235 

XVII.    Love  in  a  Prison 249 

XVIII.   In  Outlawry 278 

XIX.  Ave  Libertas  Morituri  te  salutant.    .    .  298 


LIST    OF    AUTHORITIES. 


Memoires  de  Madame  Roland,  revues  et  completes 
sur  les  MS.  autographes  et  accompagnees  de  notes  et 
pieces  inddites,  par  M.  P.  Faugere.     1864. 

Lettres  en  partie  inedites  de  Madame  Roland 
(Mademoiselle  Phlipon)  aux  Demoiselles 
Cannet,  etc.,  par  C.  A.  Dauban.     1867. 

Lettres  de  Madame  Roland  A  Bancal  des  Issarts, 
publides  par  Henriette  des  Issarts,  et  prece'ddes  d'une 
introduction  par  M.  Sainte-Beuve.     1835. 

£tude  sur  Madame  Roland  et  son  temps,  suivie 
des  lettres  a  Buzot,  par  C.  A.  Dauban.     1864. 

Memoires  de  Buzot,  publiees  par  M.  Gaudet.     1883. 

Memoires  de  Jean  Pierre  Brissot  de  Warville. 

Quelques  Notices  pour  l'Histoire  et  le  Recit 
de  mes  Perils,  depuis  le  31  Mai,  par  Jean  Baptiste 
Louvet. 

Memoires  du  Comte  Beugnot,  Ancien  Ministre  (1783- 
181 5),  publiees  par  le  Comte  Albert  Beugnot  son  petit 
fils.     Deuxieme  Edition,  1868. 

Les  Femmes  C£lebres  de  1789-95,  et  leur  influ- 
ence dans  la  Revolution,  par  E.  Lairtullier. 

Portraits  de  Femmes,  par  Sainte-Beuve.     1876. 

Histoire  de  Girondins,  par  Alphonse  de  Lamartine. 
1847 


viii  LIST   OF  AUTHORITIES. 

Histoire   de   la   Revolution  Francaise,  par  Jules 

Michelet.     9  torn.     1877-83. 
The   French   Revolution  :   a  History  in  3  vols.,  by 

Thomas  Carlyle.     1837. 
Histoire  de  la  Revolution  Francaise,  par  M.  Louis 

Blanc.     10  torn.     1847-62. 
Arthur  Young:    Travels  during  the  years  1787- 

89.     1793- 

DlCTIONNAIRE  BlOGRAPHIQUE  ET  HlSTORIQUE  DES 
HOMMES   MARQUANS    DE    LA  FIN   DU    DlX-HUITIEME 

Siecle.  Rddigd  par  une  Socie'te'  de  gens  des  lettres. 
1800. 

Du  Contrat  Social,  par  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau. 

Les  Confessions,  par  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau. 

Critical  Miscellanies,  by  John  Morley.  Second  se- 
ries, 1877. 

Deux  Femmes  Celebres,  par  Victor  Lamy.     1884. 


MADAME    ROLAND. 


CHAPTER   I. 


CHILDHOOD. 


Marie-Jeanne  Phlipon,  renowned  as  Madame 
Roland,  was  born  in  Paris,  March  17,  1754,  in  a 
house  on  the  Quai  de  l'Horloge,  near  the  Pont 
Neuf.  She  was  thus  just  the  same  age  as  Louis 
XVI.,  and  about  a  year  older  than  Marie  Antoin- 
ette. It  would  be  difficult  to  find  more  common- 
place surroundings  than  those  amid  which  one 
of  the  greatest  of  Frenchwomen  was  ushered  into 
the  world. 

That  a  daughter  of  shepherds  and  rustics  should 
have  become  the  savior  of  her  country  is  not  sur- 
prising. For  the  primitive  simplicity  of  those 
occupations  seems  the  proper  nursery  of  heroism. 
But  it  is  surprising  that  in  the  Paris  of  Louis 
XV.,  from  the  unimaginative  class  of  small  shop- 
keepers, there  should  suddenly  spring  a  child,  in 
soul  the  heiress  of  the  great  men  of  antiquity. 

l 


2:  \     MADAaJJL,  ROLAND. 

But  the  actual  parents  were  far  from  suspecting 
the  native  land  of  the  little  traveller  that  was  born 
to  them.  They  had  probably  never  heard  of 
Aristides  the  Just  and  Brutus  the  Tyrannicide. 
Gatien  Phlipon,  a  chaser  and  worker  in  enamel, 
carried  on  a  pretty  thriving  business  ;  for  this  was 
the  time  when  elaborately  engraved  watches, 
snuff-boxes,  and  shoe-buckles  were  so  much 
sought  after,  the  designs  often  being  works  of 
art  in  their  way.  M.  Phlipon  employed  several 
apprentices,  and  was  successful  as  long  as  he  ap- 
plied himself  steadily  to  his  calling.  A  restless 
wish  to  make  money  and  rise  in  the  world  was, 
however,  attended  with  the  opposite  results. 
Constantly  engaged  in  speculation,  —  such  as 
buying  diamonds  to  resell  at  a  profit,  — he  neg- 
lected his  business  only  to  lose  money  in  that 
as  also  in  his  other  ventures.  He  was  tall  and 
good-looking,  proud  of  his  personal  advantages, 
and  in  every  way  a  gay,  vain,  quick-witted,  and 
pleasure-loving  Parisian. 

Marguerite  Bimont,  his  wife,  in  most  respects 
his  exact  opposite,  was  a  woman  of  the  highest 
rectitude,  and  of  an  almost  saintly  purity  of  life. 
Firm  yet  gentle,  of  reserved  and  dignified  man- 
ners, her  retiring  habits  formed  a  strong  contrast 
to  those  of  her  neighbors.  She  rarely  received 
visitors,  and  never  stirred  from  home  except  to 
visit  her  aged  mother  or  her  husband's  relatives, 


CHILDHOOD.  3 

or  to  go  to  church.  No  doubt  that  her  example 
exercised  a  powerful  influence  on  her  daughter's 
character. 

Marie-Jeanne  —  or  Manon,  as  she  was  famil- 
iarly called  —  was  the  second  of  seven  children, 
of  whom  all  but  herself  died  in  infancy.  Ac- 
cording to  French  custom  she  was  put  out  to 
nurse,  and  the  first  two  years  of  her  life  were 
passed  in  the  neighborhood  of  Arpajon,  in  the 
care  of  a  buxom,  kindly  young  country-woman, 
who  conceived  the  greatest  affection  for  her 
charge,  and  never  lost  sight  of  her  in  after  life. 
At  the  age  of  two  Manon  was  taken  home  by  her 
parents,  a  thorough  little  rustic  brimming  over 
with  health  and  spirits.  She  was  never  taught 
to  read,  but  had  mastered  that  accomplishment 
at  the  mature  age  of  four,  when,  according  to  her, 
the  chief  business  of  her  education  might  be  re- 
garded as  finished,  so  assiduously  did  she  thence- 
forth devote  herself  to  study.  Let  her  only  have 
books  and  flowers,  and  she  wanted  nothing  else. 
She  was  a  thoughtful,  affectionate  child,  lively 
without  being  boisterous,  and  easily  amenable  to 
reason  ;  but,  however  tractable,  violence  or  threats 
made  her  proportionately  obstinate.  The  sever- 
est punishment  her  mother  ever  found  it  neces- 
sary to  inflict  was  to  address  her  as  "  Mademoi- 
selle," accompanying  the  word  by  a  certain  look 
and  tone  of  voice.     Not  so  her  father.     A  man 


4  MADAME  ROLAND. 

of  hasty  and  violent  temper,  he  sometimes  had 
recourse  to  physical  chastisement,  which  never 
failed  to  raise  a  spirit  of  intense  resistance  in  his 
daughter. 

One  such  scene  made  an  indelible  impression 
on  the  future  Madame  Roland.  She  was  then 
six  years  old,  and  happened  to  be  suffering  from 
some  childish  ailment.  Her  mother  had  poured 
out  the  prescribed  dose  of  physic,  and  was  hold- 
ing it  to  her  lips.  Disgusted  by  the  smell, 
the  child  involuntarily  drew  back,  but,  at  the 
mother's  gentle  remonstrance,  made  ineffectual 
efforts  to  swallow  the  unsavory  draught.  In  the 
mean  while  the  father  had  come  in  ;  and  taking 
Manon's  aversion  for  obstinacy,  he  got  very 
angry,  seized  hold  of  the  whip,  and  began  beat- 
ing her.  from  that  moment  she  lost  all  desire 
to  obey,  and  declared  that  she  would  not  take 
the  medicine.  Her  father  administered  whip- 
ping the  second  ;  uttering  loud  screams,  she  now 
tried  to  upset  the  glass.  A  movement  betraying 
this  intention  enraged  her  father  completely,  and 
he  threatened  to  whip  her  for  the  third  time. 
From  that  moment  a  sudden  and  violent  revul- 
sion of  feeling  took  place  in  Manon.  Her  sobs 
ceased,  she  dried  her  tears,  all  her  faculties 
became  concentrated  in  an  intense  effort  of  will. 
She  rose  from  her  bed,  turned  to  the  wall,  and 
nerved  herself   to  receive  the  blows   in   silence. 


CHILDHOOD.  5 

"  They  might  have  killed  me  on  the  spot,"  she 
says  in  her  famous  Memoirs,  penned  in  a  prison 
within  a  stone's-throw  of  the  scaffold,  "without 
my  uttering  so  much  as  a  sigh  ;  nor  will  it  cost 
me  more  to-day  to  ascend  the  guillotine  than  it 
did  then  to  yield  to  a  barbarous  treatment  which 
might  have  killed  but  not  conquered  me." 

This  was  her  father's  last  effort  at  education. 
Not  that  he  was  habitually  unkind  or  cruel  in  his 
treatment  of  his  only  child ;  on  the  contrary,  he 
idolized  his  daughter,  especially  in  her  early  girl- 
hood, when  his  susceptible  vanity  was  flattered 
by  the  attention  she  attracted.  His  method  of 
dealing  with  her  must  be  laid  to  the  charge  of 
the  manners  of  the  times,  severe  and  harsh  to 
children,  where  not  modified  by  exceptional 
refinement  of  nature.  However,  as  we  have  said, 
M.  Phlipon  henceforth  wisely  avoided  pitting 
his  will  against  his  daughter's,  and  entirely  left 
her  guidance  to  the  wise  and  loving  hands  of  his 
wife.  But  he  was  very  proud  of  the  child's  pre- 
cocious intelligence,  and  for  her  station  and 
years  she  had  an  array  of  masters  which  goes 
far  to  prove  that  her  parents  must  have  consid- 
ered hers  a  very  exceptional  nature. 

At  seven  years  of  age  Manon  was  sent  every 
Sunday  to  attend  catechism,  as  it  was  called,  in 
order  to  prepare  her  for  confirmation.  This 
examination  was  commonly  held  in  a  church  or 


6  MADAME  ROLAND. 

chapel,  where  a  few  benches  were  placed  in  a 
corner,  and  was  principally  held  for  children  of 
the  poorer  classes ;  but  as  her  uncle  the  Abbe* 
Bimont,  an  amiable,  kind-hearted  priest,  was  at 
that  time  in  charge  of  this  class,  her  mother 
judged  it  well  for  her  to  attend,  especially  as  she 
felt  sure  that  her  daughter's  memory  would 
always  secure  her  the  first  place. 

On  one  of  these  occasions  the  rector  put  in  an 
appearance  ;  and  in  order  to  show  off  his  superior 
theological  learning,  he  asked  Manon,  with  ill- 
concealed  triumph,  how  many  orders  of  spirits 
there  were  in  the  celestial  hierarchy.  And  the 
terrible  child  answered,  nothing  daunted,  that 
there  were  nine,  —  as  might  be  learned  from  the 
preface  to  the  Missal,  —  as  angels,  archangels, 
thrones,  dominions,  etc.  She  was  already  deeply 
versed  in  the  Bible  as  well  as  in  the  Psalter,  the 
only  books  to  be  found  at  her  grandmother's 
house.  This  old  lady,  whom  her  mother  took 
her  to  see  every  Sunday  after  vespers,  was  in 
her  dotage,  to  the  poor  child's  bewilderment. 
She  invariably  sat  in  the  same  chair,  —  by  the 
window  in  summer,  and  in  winter  near  the 
fire-place,  —  and  gave  no  signs  of  animation 
except  such  as  might  emanate  from  a  vindictive 
old  fairy.  For  instance,  when  her  grandchild, 
in  high  spirits,  skipped  about  the  room,  she 
invariably  burst  into  tears  ;   but  no  sooner  did 


CHILDHOOD.  7 

she  have  a  fall  or  knock  herself,  than  the  palsied 
dame  showed  her  merriment  by  a  hoarse,  chuck- 
ling laugh.  Such  conduct  was  naturally  calcu- 
lated to  hurt  Manon's  feelings  ;  but  her  mother 
eventually  made  her  understand  that  these  visits 
were  a  duty  not  to  be  dispensed  with. 

Manon's  love  of  reading  and  thirst  for  knowl- 
edge used  to  hurry  her  out  .of  bed  at  five  in  the 
morning.  Barefooted,  she  would  steal  to  her 
mother's  room  where  her  books  lay  on  a  table, 
and  do  her  lessons  with  such  eagerness  that  her 
progress  took  her  masters  by  surprise.  Among 
these  we  hear  of  an  anomalous  sort  of  personage 
who  had  successively  figured  as  chorister-boy, 
soldier,  deserter,  capuchin,  and  discharged  clerk, 
and  had  come  up  penniless  from  the  country 
with  a  wife  and  three  children.  This  Jack-of-all- 
trades,  who  rejoiced  in  a  fine  falsetto  voice,  was 
employed  to  teach  her  singing,  freely  borrowing 
money  of  her  parents  the  while,  and  finally  dis- 
appearing in  Russia.  Her  dancing-master,  a 
Savoyard,  was  wizened,  snub-nosed,  frightfully 
ugly,  and  with  a  wen  on  his  cheek  which  showed 
to  advantage  as  with  his  chin  he  nipped  his 
pocket  viol.  Fourthly,  there  was  a  gigantic 
Spaniard,  with  hairy  hands  like  Esau,  who  gave 
her  lessons  on  the  guitar ; '  and,  finally,  a  timid 
man  of  fifty,  with  rubicund  face,  who  taught  her 
to  play  on  the  violoncello.      As  the  latter  only 


8  MADAME  ROLAND. 

instructed  her  for  a  short  time,  a  Reverend 
Father  Colomb  enters  on  the  scene,  who,  to  con- 
sole her,  occasionally  used  to  send  over  his  vio- 
loncello to  accompany  her  guitar.  Besides  all 
this,  her  uncle  used  to  teach  her  some  Latin  ; 
while  her  father,  to  complete  the  curriculum, 
made  her  learn  drawing  and  the  use  of  the 
graving  tool. 

But  the  real  business  of  education,  as  before 
mentioned,  consisted  not  so  much  in  these  les- 
sons as  in  her  insatiable  reading  of  all  the  books 
she  could  find,  consisting  chiefly  of  standard 
works,  few  in  number  but  of  excellent  quality. 
After  having  devoured  all  those  belonging  to  her 
parents,  she  came  one  day,  while  ferreting  about 
the  house,  on  a  fresh  store,  which  lasted  her  for 
a  long  while.  This  happy  find  belonged  to  one 
of  her  father's  apprentices  named  Courson,  who 
in  the  course  of  time  became  tutor  to  the  pages 
at  Versailles.  This  studious  young  man  always 
kept  a  certain  number  of  volumes  in  a  little 
hiding-place  of  his  own  in  her  father's  atelier. 
Now,  this  atelier  adjoined  a  good-sized  room, 
resplendent  with  looking-glasses  and  pictures, 
where  Manon  was  in  the  habit  of  having  her 
lessons.  A  recess  on  one  side  of  the  mantel- 
piece admitted  of  a  closet  being  fenced  off  from 
the  main  room,  furnished  with  bedstead,  table, 
chair,  and  a  few  shelves,  which  till  within  a  year 


CHILDHOOD.  9 

of  her  marriage  served  her  at  once  for  bedroom 
and  study.  From  this  nook,  as  a  mouse  from  its 
hole,  the  child  would  noiselessly  sally  forth  when 
work  was  at  a  stand-still,  and,  seizing  one  of  the 
precious  books,  would  quickly  dart  back  to  her 
retreat.  Here,  elbow  on  table  and  cheek  resting 
on  her  left  hand,  what  wonderful  voyages  of  dis- 
covery did  she  not  make  into  far  lands  and 
backward  centuries !  Descriptions  of  travel 
were  her  delight,  pathetic  stories  deeply  touched 
her ;  but  one  day  there  fell  into  her  hands  a  book 
that  kindled  in  her  a  new  life. 

This  book  was  Plutarch.  The  humble  little 
closet  on  the  Quai  de  l'Horloge  was  changed  into 
a  temple  where  the  best  and  bravest  of  men 
again  became  incarnate  in  the  shaping  imagina- 
tion of  a  visionary  child.  Who  can  precisely 
explain  or  define  that  strong  historic  grasp, 
which  is  almost  like  a  sixth  sense,  and  seems 
inborn  with  some  children  ?  Give  to  such  a  one 
a  history  of  Rome,  and  it  comes  with  a  power 
and  a  passion  and  a  haunting  reality  as  of  mem- 
ories called  up  from  an  obliterated  past.  Plu- 
tarch became  a  landmark  in  the  life  of  Manon 
Phlipon.  She  carried  the  volume  about  with 
her  everywhere ;  she  absorbed  its  contents  ;  she 
took  it  to  church  with  her.  This  was  in  Lent, 
1763,  when  she  was  barely  nine.  Without  know- 
ing it  she  had  become  a  Republican,  and  would 


IO  MADAME  ROLAND. 

often  weep  at  not  being  a  native  of  Sparta  or 
of  Rome.  Henceforth  Manon  was  ripe  for  the 
Revolution. 

By-and-by  she  became  absorbed  in  "  Telema- 
chus  "  and  in  Tasso's  "  Jerusalem  Delivered."  She 
used  to  put  herself  in  the  place  of  the  fictitious 
heroines  ;  and  while  fancying  herself  Eucharis 
or  Erminia,  her  heart  used  to  beat  and  her  voice 
to  falter  with  emotion.  Sometimes  her  mother 
would  request  her  to  read  from  one  or  other  of 
these  books ;  but  there  were  certain  passages 
which  she  felt  so  acutely  that  no  entreaties 
would  have  prevailed  on  her  to  utter  them  aloud. 
Having  on  one  occasion  observed  her  mother 
reading  one  of  the  identical  works  which  she 
had  previously  perused  with  considerable  inward 
misgivings,  she  now  went  more  openly  to  work 
in  her  studies,  and  the  obliging  young  appren- 
tice seemed  to  buy  books  on  purpose  for  her  to 
read. 

Voltaire  followed  next  in  order;  and  on  one 
occasion  the  little  girl  was  discovered  by  a 
stout,  forbidding  old  lady,  who  had  come  to  call 
on  her  mother,  deeply  engrossed  in  "  Candide  "  ! 
Solemn  remonstrances  being  addressed  by  this 
officious  visitor  to  Madame  Phlipon,  the  child 
was  ordered  to  put  the  book  back  in  its  place. 
In  spite  of  this  momentary  prohibition,  her 
parents  never   in   any   way  interfered  with   her 


CHILDHOOD.  1 1 

reading,  unless  the  mother  kept  Rousseau  out 
of  her  reach,  —  which  Madame  Roland  thought 
possible,  as,  with  the  former's  deep  knowledge  of 
her  daughter,  she  would  apprehend  no  really  bad 
influence  from  the  writings  of  Voltaire,  while 
dreading  that  of  Rousseau  on  her  susceptible 
temperament.  Whether  from  design  or  accident, 
Manon  only  became  acquainted  with  the  latter's 
works  after  her  mother's  death  ;  and  they  made 
as  great  an  epoch  in  her  life  at  one-and-twenty 
as  Plutarch  had  done  at  nine. 

These  grave  studies  were  occasionally  varied 
by  a  walk  in  the  Tuileries  Gardens  on  Sunday 
afternoons.  Her  mother  loved  to  dress  her  as 
if  she  had  been  a  doll.  Though  herself  very 
simply  attired,  she  spared  no  expense  in  the 
little  girl's  bravery,  and  would  deck  her  out  in  a 
fashionable  silk  corps-de-robe,  fitting  tightly  and 
displaying  the  figure  to  advantage,  while  made 
full  below  the  waist  and  sweeping  in  a  long  train 
behind.  These  gala  days  were  anything  but  fes- 
tive to  the  studious  Manon  ;  for  she  used  to 
shrink  from  the  hair-dressing  operations  which 
often  forced  tears  from  her  eyes.  On  such  occa- 
sions her  dark  abundant  locks  would  be  pulled 
about  and  put  into  curl-papers,  and  frizzed  and 
burned  with  hot  irons  according  to  the  custom 
of  the  day.  These  silken  splendors  and  hair- 
crimpings    were    only    displayed     on     Sundays, 


12  MADAME  ROLAND. 

holidays,  and  birthdays  ;  on  ordinary  occasions 
Manon  wore  a  plain  linen  frock,  in  which  she 
frequently  accompanied  her  mother  to  market, 
or  was  even  sent  across  the  way  to  buy  a  little 
salad  or  parsley.  And  the  future  heroine  of  the 
Gironde  would  infuse  so  much  courtesy  and  dig- 
nity into  her  manner  of  making  these  purchases, 
that  the  astonished  fruiterer  always  served  her 
before  his  other  customers.  She  was  also  at 
times  called  into  the  kitchen,  where  her  mother 
taught  her  to  make  omelettes  and  other  dishes, — 
an  acquirement  which  proved  useful  afterwards, 
when  her  husband's  delicate  digestion  frequently 
induced  her  to  prepare  with  her  own  hands  the 
food  he  took. 

Madame  Phlipon,  who  was  pious  without 
being  a  bigot,  had  unobtrusively  instilled  her 
religious  principles  into  her  daughter's  mind. 
Although  Manon's  infant  reason  had  been  trou- 
bled by  the  idea  that  God  should  have  permitted 
the  transformation  of  the  Devil  into  a  serpent, 
her  feelings  were  gradually  touched  by  the  moral 
beauty  of  Christianity  ;  and  after  her  first  con- 
firmation, the  teachings  of  the  New  Testament 
took  deep  and  deeper  hold  of  her.  She  now 
began  to  meditate  on  the  mysteries  of  faith  and 
eternal  salvation,  and  felt  that  she  was  but  ill- 
prepared  for  her  first  communion.  Thereupon 
she  became  convinced  that  she  ought  to  enter  a 


CHILDHOOD.  13 

convent,  where  her  devotion  would  be  entirely 
untrammelled  ;  and  while  daily  studying  the  folio 
"  Lives  of  the  Saints,"  she  deplored  those  happy 
days  of  martyrdom  when  persecuted  Christians 
triumphantly  proclaimed  their  creed  in  the  very 
fangs  of  death.  Alas !  the  child's  wish  was 
granted  to  the  woman  :  to  her  was  indeed  given 
the  martyr's  death  and  the  martyr's  crown.  Nor 
did  she,  in  the  fulness  of  time,  falter  in  her  new 
faith  beneath  the  knife  of  the  guillotine. 

In  this  solemn  state  of  mind  she  at  last,  one 
evening,  took  courage  to  proffer  her  request  to 
her  parents.  "  I  fell  at  their  feet,"  she  says, 
"  shedding  at  the  same  time  a  torrent  of  tears 
which  almost  deprived  me  of  speech.  Troubled 
and  surprised,  they  asked  me  the  reason  of  my 
strange  excitement.  '  I  am  going  to  beg  of  you,' 
I  said,  sobbing,  '  to  do  something  which  grieves 
me  sorely,  but  which  conscience  demands.  Send 
me  to  a  nunnery.'  They  raised  me  from  the 
ground.  My  good  mother  was  much  moved. 
While  it  was  pointed  out  to  me  that  I  never  had 
been  refused  any  reasonable  request,  they  asked 
me  what  had  put  me  into  this  frame  of  mind. 
I  replied  that  I  wished  to  prepare  for  my  first 
communion  in  the  deepest  possible  seclusion." 
As  her  parents  expressed  themselves  ready  to 
comply  with  her  desire,  she  was  presently  placed 
in  the  Sisterhood  of  the  Congregation,  in  the  Rue 


14  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Neuve  St.  fitienne,  Faubourg  St.  Marceau.  This 
happened  on  the  7th  of  May,  1765,  when  she 
was  eleven  years  old.  By  a  curious  coincidence, 
the  convent  where  she  then  passed  one  of  the 
happiest  years  of  childhood  was  touching  the 
prison  where  she  came  to  be  confined  in  her 
prime. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SOPHIE. 

Shut  in  by  high  walls,  the  hushed  green  convent 
garden  lay,  amid  the  stir  and  noise  of  ever  rest- 
less Paris,  like  a  little  oasis  of  peace  and  prayer 
and  ecstatic  absorption  in  God.  Here,  noiselessly 
moving  along  ancient  avenues,  now  touched  with 
the  living  green  of  spring,  walked  the  sober 
nuns,  standing  out  in  mournful  relief  against  the 
flowering  glory  of  May.  The  impression  of  this 
secluded  spot,  of  the  regulated  contemplative  life, 
of  the  religious  services,  where  the  full  organ- 
tones  mingled  with  the  soaring  voices  of  the 
nuns  as  they  chanted  their  anthems,  filled  the 
young  devotee  with  rapture.  In  spite  of  her  in- 
tense affection  for  her  mother,  Manon  dreamed 
of  taking  the  veil,  though  well  aware  that  as  an 
only  child  she  would  meet  with  the  strongest 
opposition  from  her  parents.  In  the  mean  while 
she  assiduously  applied  herself  to  devotional  ex- 
ercises, and  became  a  favorite  with  the  nuns. 
They  soon  felt  how  such  a  pupil  would  redound 
to  their  credit,  and  lavished  praises  and  caresses 
on  her.     Within  a  few  months  of  her  entrance, 


\6  MADAME  ROLAND. 

by  the  unanimous  consent  of  the  superiors  and 
the  director,  she  was  allowed  to  receive  her  first 
communion. 

This  year  spent  by  Manon  at  the  convent  was 
marked  by  the  beginning  of  an  intimacy  which 
never  knew  break  or  interruption  for  thirteen 
years  ;  and  to  the  correspondence  which  it  eli- 
cited we  owe  the  knowledge  of  Madame  Roland's 
daily  thoughts,  habits,  and  surroundings  while 
she  still  lived  in  the  peaceful  obscurity  of  pri- 
vate life. 

In  the  summer  months  of  1765  some  new 
boarders,  young  ladies  from  Amiens,  were  ex- 
pected at  the  convent  :  great  excitement  in  con- 
sequence among  the  pupils  pending  their  arrival  ! 
At  last  the  strangers  made  their  appearance,  and 
happened  at  supper  to  be  seated  at  the  same 
table  with  Manon  Phlipon.  They  were  Henri- 
ette  and  Sophie  Can  net.  The  eldest  was  a 
well-grown  girl  of  eighteen,  whose  countenance 
indicated  a  mixture  of  sensitiveness,  pride,  and 
discontent.  The  fact  being,  that,  as  she  was  of  a 
very  joyous  and  lively  disposition,  she  did  not 
relish  being  sent  back  to  convent  life  in  order 
to  mitigate  her  sister's  grief  at  leaving  home. 
Sophie  seemed  of  a  much  more  equable  temper, 
though  her  charming  countenance  was  just  then 
stained  with  tears.  She  was  a  gentle,  demure, 
affectionate   young   damsel   of   fourteen,   with  a 


SOPHIE.  17 

prematurely  reflective  turn  of  mind.  Manon  was 
taken  at  first  sight  by  her  young  neighbor, 
though  she  could  see  her  but  indistinctly,  her 
face  being  covered  by  a  veil  of  white  gauze. 
They  soon  became  inseparable.  They  worked, 
read,  walked  together,  and  being  both  in  a  deeply 
religious  frame  of  mind,  enjoyed  the  closest  com- 
munity of  sentiment.  In  the  fresh  delight  of 
uttering  their  thoughts  for  the  first  time,  they 
often  sauntered  arm-in-arm  down  the  fragrant 
avenues  of  old  lime-trees,  and  the  year  which 
they  thus  passed  together  remained  one  of  the 
most  pleasant  memories  of  their  lives. 

There  was  another  inmate  of  the  convent  who 
contracted  a  genuine  and  lifelong  attachment  for 
Manon.  This  was  Angelique  Boufflers,  who, 
being  dowerless,  had  perforce  taken  vows  at 
seventeen.  She  was  one  of  the  lay  sisters,  under 
the  name  of  Sister  Agathe.  Although  the  most 
menial  tasks  devolved  on  her,  she  performed 
them  all  with  zeal  and  cheerfulness,  while  in 
mind  and  heart  she  was  far  superior  to  most  of 
the  ladies  of  the  choir.  With  quick  penetration 
she  singled  out  the  little  Phlipon  as  her  pet 
boarder,  and  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  antici- 
pating her  wishes,  even  secretly  giving  her  a 
key  to  her  cell,  that  in  her  absence  she  might 
pore  over  the  poems  and  writings  of  the  Mystics 
—  to  the  shrill  singing  of  her  canary  bird.     This 

2 


18  MADAME  ROLAND. 

good  soul,  whose  repressed  affection  seems  to 
have  been  concentrated  on  the  extraordinary 
child  that  for  a  while  gladdened  her  monotonous 
existence,  never  quite  lost  sight  of  Madame 
Roland.  And  years  later,  when  convents  were 
abolished,  poor  Sister  Agathe,  living  penuriously 
in  a  garret  near  her  ancient  haunts,  forgot  the 
vicissitudes  of  her  own  lot  in  lamenting  those  of 
her  "  daughter,"  as  she  was  wont  to  call  her 
darling  Manon. 

But  these  days  lay  unsuspected  in  the  future. 
We  are  as  yet  only  in  the  summer  of  1766,  when 
Manon,  having  passed  her  appointed  time  at  the 
convent,  was  taken  to  spend  a  year  with  her  pa- 
ternal grandmother.  Her  father,  having  been 
appointed  to  some  parochial  office,  was  taken 
much  from  home,  and  the  supervision  of  the 
apprentices  devolved  to  a  great  extent  on  her 
mother,  who  might  thus  not  have  been  able  to 
devote  herself  so  much  to  her  daughter  as  she 
would  have  wished.  So  it  was  judged  better  to 
place  her  under  her  grandmother's  care.  Old 
Madame  Phlipon,  who  lived  with  a  maiden  sis- 
ter in  a  decent  apartment  in  the  quiet  lie  Saint 
Louis,  was  a  portly  good-humored  little  woman,, 
whose  winning  laugh,  agreeable  manners,  and 
roguish  twinkle  showed  her  at  sixty-six  not  in- 
different to  her  appearance.  Left  a  widow  after 
one  year's  marriage,  she  seems  to  have  lived  in 


SOPHIE.  19 

the  character  of  help  and  governess  in  the  family 
of  some  rich  and  distant  relatives,  but  was  now 
taking  her  ease  on  a  little  legacy,  reverentially 
waited  on  by  her  maiden  sister  Angelique,  with 
pale  face,  poked-out  chin,  and  spectacles  on  nose. 
The  jovial  Madame  Phlipon  was  very  fond  of 
young  people,  and  initiated  her  grandchild  in  the 
mysteries  of  fine  needle-work  and  sentimental 
conversation,  not  unenlivened  by  wit. 

Manon  Phlipon,  now  in  her  teens,  returned 
once  more  to  her  parents  and  to  her  small  closet, 
narrower  than  any  nun's  cell.  "My  father's 
house  had  not,"  she  writes,  "the  solitary  tran- 
quillity of  that  of  my  grandmother ;  still,  plenty 
of  air  and  a  wide  space  on  the  roof  overlooking 
the  Pont  Neuf  were  before  my  dreamy  and  ro- 
mantic imagination.  How  many  times  from  my 
window,  which  looked  northward,  have  I  contem- 
plated with  emotion  the  vast  desert  of  heaven, 
from  the  blue  dawn  of  morning  behind  the  Pont 
du  Change  until  the  golden  sunset,  when  the  glo- 
rious purple  faded  away  behind  the  trees  of  the 
Champs  Elysees  and  the  houses  of  Chaillot !  I 
rarely  failed  to  employ  thus  some  moments  of  a 
fine  day  ;  and  quiet  tears  frequently  stole  deli- 
ciously  from  my  eyes,  while  my  heart,  throbbing 
with  an  inexpressible  sentiment,  happy  thus  to 
beat,  and  grateful  to  exist,  offered  to  the  Being 
of  beings  a  homage  pure  and  worthy  of  Him." 


20  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Her  father,  seeing  her  remarkable  aptitude  for 
almost  every  pursuit,  had  not  given  up  the  idea 
of  making  her,  to  some  extent,  his  assistant,  and 
again  induced  her  to  handle  the  graving  tool. 
He  would  set  her  to  engrave  the  edge  of  a  watch- 
case  or  to  ornament  a  box ;  and  in  order  to  give 
her  an  interest  in  this  work,  he  induced  her  to 
keep  an  account  book,  and  divided  the  profits  of 
these  little  jobs  between  them.  But  the  pleasure 
of  purchasing  a  ribbon  or  girlish  trinket  did  not 
compensate  her  for  the  time  lost  to  serious  study, 
and  she  presently  put  away  the  graver  and  never 
touched  it  again. 

Her  life  in  those  days  was  of  unvarying  regu- 
larity. Every  morning  she  and  her  mother  went 
to  Mass,  and  then  to  do  a  little  shopping.  Les- 
sons from  some  of  the  masters  already  mentioned 
filled  up  the  rest  of  the  forenoon.  In  the  retire- 
ment of  her  closet  she  would  afterwards  study 
until  evening,  when  her  mother  read  some  in- 
structive book  to  her,  she  being  engaged  the 
while  in  needle-work. 

Outwardly,  no  existence  could  be  more  monoto- 
nous than  was  Manon  Phlipon's  at  this  time  ;  but 
what  a  glow  of  feeling,  what  a  moving  panorama 
of  ever  fresh  images,  what  an  eager  reaching 
out  after  self-improvement  filled  the  inward  life 
with  a  stir  of  passionate  activity  !  To  this  power 
of  mental  concentration   she  joined  a  plenitude 


SOPHIE.  21 

of  sensations  that  even  in  youth  it  is  given 
to  but  few  to  feel ;  for  she  had  a  magnificent 
physique,  and  her  highly-strung  sensitive  nerves 
did  not  impair  a  vigor  that  would  not  have  dis- 
graced an  Amazon.  This  accounts  for  her  being 
able  to  study  till  far  into  the  night,  and  yet  re- 
awaken with  something  of  the  joyous  feeling  of 
a  bird.  Every  morning,  indeed,  was  like  the 
spring  of  the  day  to  her. 

This  varied  intellectual  life  was  poured  forth  in 
long  letters  to  Sophie,  now  returned  to  Amiens. 
In  those  letters,  often  carried  on  from  day  to  day, 
and  sent  once  or  twice  a  week,  one  almost  seems 
to  hear  her  thinking  aloud.  In  them  she  hits  off 
every  occurrence  of  the  day,  giving  an  analysis 
of  every  book  she  had  read,  and  discussing  the 
religious  meditations  and  philosophical  ponderings 
that  succeeded  them.  The  published  correspon- 
dence opens  in  the  year  1771.  The  precocious 
habits  of  thought  and  fluency  of  style  of  this  girl 
of  seventeen  are  most  surprising,  especially  when 
one  bears  her  surroundings  in  mind.  Of  course 
we  meet  with  the  sententiousness  of  the  eigh- 
teenth century,  with  its  high-sounding  phrases 
and  idyllic  sentimentality  ;  but  when  we  remem- 
ber that  the  people  who  wrote  so  complacently 
about  the  abstract  virtues  were,  in  the  fulness  of 
time,  ready  to  sacrifice  everything  to  their  con- 
victions, we  must   acknowledge  that  what  now 


22  MADAME  ROLAND. 

sounds  affected   to  us,  once  had  the  fulness  of 
reality. 

In  one  of  the  earliest  letters  we  meet  with  this 
striking  passage  :  — 

"  The  knowledge  of  ourselves  is  no  doubt  the  most  use- 
ful of  the  sciences.  Everything  tends  to  turn  towards  that 
object  the  desire  to  know  which  is  born  with  us,  a  desire 
we  try  to  satisfy  by  acquainting  ourselves  with  the  histories 
of  all  past  nations.  This  is  by  no  means  a  useless  habit, 
if  we  know  how  to  avail  ourselves  of  it.  My  views  on 
reading  are  already  very  different  from  those  I  entertained 
a  few  years  ago  ;  for  I  am  less  anxious  to  know  facts  than 
men  ;  in  the  history  of  nations  and  empires  I  look  for  the 
human  heart,  and  I  think  that  I  discover  it  too.  Man  is 
the  epitome  of  the  universe ;  the  revolutions  in  the  world 
without  are  an  image  of  those  which  take  place  in  his  own 
soul." 

The  girl  thinker,  lost  in  meditation  in  her  little 
cell,  while  outside  the  din  and  roar  of  the  mighty- 
city  were  lulled  for  awhile,  actually  hit  upon  one 
of  those  truths  which  we  are  wont  to  consider  as 
the  mature  fruit  and  last  result  of  Goethe's  phi- 
losophy of  life.  It  is  not  knowledge  or  power  or 
literary  fame  that  this  child  of  the  Seine  asks  for 
(though  they  were  all  within  reach  of  her)  ;  no, 
what  she  would  learn  is  the  art  to  live,  —  that 
most  difficult  of  all  the  arts,  according  to  the  au- 
thor of  Faust  For  in  1772  we  hear  the  humble 
enameller's  daughter  writing :  "  Let  us  endeavor 
to  know  ourselves  ;  let  us  not  be  that  factitious 


SOPHIE.  23 

thing  which  can  only  exist  by  the  help  of  others. 
Let  us  be  ourselves.  Soyons  nous"  Here  we 
have  the  note  of  the  highest  originality,  —  of 
genius.  Instead  of  a  slavish  following  of  cus- 
tom, instead  of  trying  to  digest  the  old  dough 
of  superannuated  ideas,  which  has  spoiled  the 
digestion  of  so  many  generations,  let  us  dare  to 
solve  the  problems  of  life  in  our  own  way  and 
day ;  let  us  try  and  see  for  ourselves,  not  take  it 
for  granted  that  all  our  thinking  has  been  done 
for  us  by  our  ancestors.  If  in  these  thoughts  of 
the  young  student  there  is  something  of  the  lofty 
calm  of  the  sage,  there  is  likewise  a  tone  of  prac- 
tical sagacity  and  daring,  indicative  of  a  nature 
eminently  fitted  for  mixing  in  and  controlling 
affairs. 

How  far  Sophie  Cannet  herself  may  have  been 
able  to  enter  into  her  friend's  abstract  reasonings 
we  have  but  little  means  of  ascertaining ;  but 
from  many  allusions  in  these  letters  we  infer  that 
she  was  of  a  serious  turn  of  mind,  and  fond  of 
keeping  pace  with  the  studies  of  Manon,  who  in 
the  course  of  a  year  or  two  outsped  her,  how- 
ever, so  completely  that  she  gave  up  the  attempt. 
Sophie,  moreover,  was  not  free  to  follow  her  studi- 
ous bent.  Placed  in  a  provincial  capital  and  a 
higher  social  sphere,  she  was  expected  to  go  into 
society  with  its  trivial  round  of  visitings,  balls, 
and  whist  parties.     It  is  amusing  to  note  how 


24  MADAME  ROLAND. 

often  Marie  Phlipon  compassionates  her  for  this 
drudgery  of  pleasure,  and  how  vehemently  she 
inveighs  against  dancing,  —  when  a  man's  mind, 
she  says,  is  in  his  legs,  and  a  woman's  head 
turned  by  insipid  compliments.  "Ah!"  she  ex- 
claims, "you  give  me  a  very  amusing  description 
of  those  young  ladies  drawn  up  under  arms  in 
the  prescribed  uniform,  that  their  judges  may 
review  them.  A  comic  picture  which  may  enter- 
tain ;  but  I  am  shocked  at  that  servitude  forged 
by  the  chains  of  opinion,  of  which  they  make 
themselves  the  willing  slaves.  How  foolish  wo- 
men are  !  They  would  exercise  a  genuine  em- 
pire over  men  if  their  reason  reinforced  that  of 
their  charms,  and  if  they  would  persist  in  retain- 
ing the  right  of  disposing  of  their  hearts  in  favor 
of  merit  sanctioned  by  duty." 

But  Manon  could  not  entirely  steel  herself  to 
the  pleasing  sensations  of  vanity.  She  was  now 
in  the  early  bloom  of  youth,  —  a  rich  exuberant 
bloom  in  no  wise  dimmed  by  her  midnight  studies. 
She  was  tall  and  well  proportioned,  with  a  wo- 
manly fulness  of  contour.  The  ample  develop- 
ment of  her  figure  partook  more  of  the  robustness 
of  the  people  than  of  the  delicately-reared  ladies, 
who  pay  for  their  delicacy  with  vapeurs  in  one 
age  and  neuralgia  in  another.  Languor  and 
weariness  never  came  near  her.  In  her  erect 
carriage   and  light   easy  walk   the   elasticity   of 


SOPHIE.  25 

her  nature  showed  itself.  She  had  soft,  dark, 
abundant  hair  ;  eyes  of  almost  transparent  dark- 
ness, where  the  white  is  so  pure  as  to  appear 
almost  blue  ;  and  a  brilliant  complexion,  midway 
between  fair  and  brunette,  the  quick  blood  com- 
ing in  flushes  with  every  passing  emotion.  In 
spite  of  her  philosophy,  Manon  sometimes  criti- 
cally surveyed  her  nose  in  the  glass,  and  heaved 
an  involuntary  sigh  at  its  tip  being  too  clumsy. 
Her  mouth  also,  like  that  of  all  born  speakers, 
was  large  for  the  strict  rules  of  beauty,  but  showed 
fair  white  teeth  when  she  talked  or  smiled.  The 
strength  and  energy  of  her  character  revealed  it- 
self in  the  bold  turn  of  her  prominent  chin  ;  while 
her  richly  modulated  voice,  changing  with  every 
variation  of  feeling,  resembled  one  of  those  subtly- 
stringed  instruments  whose  vibrations  are  capable 
of  expressing  all  moods,  from  the  faintest  sugges- 
tions of  tenderness  to  the  most  fervid  accents  of 
indignation  or  daring. 

Such  being  her  appearance,  she  could  not  walk 
abroad  with  impunity, —  certainly  not  in  the  streets 
of  Paris,  where,  from  the  ouvrier  in  his  blouse  to 
the  flaneur  on  the  Boulevards,  every  man  looks 
upon  a  handsome  woman  as  fair  game  for  his  flat- 
tering comments.  Of  course,  in  French  fashion, 
Manon  never  went  out  unaccompanied.  But  when 
on  a  Sunday  her  father  took  her  to  the  Tuileries 
Gardens,  or    to   the  picture  gaileries,  which   he 


26  MADAME  ROLAND. 

delighted  to  frequent  with  her,  there  would  often 
come  about  her  the  buzz  of  admiring  remarks  not 
altogether  unpleasant  in  her  ears. 

But  these  very  harmless  diversions  were  not 
without  their  after-effects.  They  left  behind  them 
a  certain  elation  of  vanity  and  an  increased  desire 
to  please.  On  the  other  hand,  these  mundane 
thoughts  but  ill  accorded  with  her  philosophical 
tenets  and  religious  principles.  These  and  other 
promptings  of  an  "  unregenerate  "  heart  began  to 
trouble  her  considerably  ;  shocked  at  certain  un- 
accountable stirrings  in  her  nature,  she  used  to 
leap  out  of  bed  in  the  middle  of  winter,  stand 
with  naked  feet  on  the  tiled  floor  of  her  bed- 
room, and,  by  way  of  penance,  sprinkle  her  head 
with  ashes, — a  frame  of  mind  probably  induced 
by  her  reading  "  The  Lives  of  the  Saints."  In 
going  to  confession  at  this  time,  she  once  accused 
herself  of  "  having  had  emotions  contrary  to  the 
chastity  of  a  Christian ; "  but  the  Abbe  Morel  not 
finding  very  much  to  say,  she  concluded  that  she 
was  not  so  criminal  as  she  had  supposed.  This 
phase  of  mind  belonged  to  her  fifteenth  year,  for 
in  the  course  of  a  few  years  she  began  to  inquire 
more  deeply  into  her  religious  principles  ;  and  the 
first  shock  her  belief  sustained  had  its  origin  in 
her  revolting  from  the  idea  of  a  "  Creator  who  de- 
votes to  eternal  torments  those  innumerable  be- 
ings, the  frail  works  of  His  hands,  cast  on  the  earth 


SOPHIE.  27 

in  the  midst  of  so  many  perils,  and  lost  in  a  night 
of  ignorance,  from  which  they  have  already  had  so 
much  to  suffer."  In  the  warmth  of  her  heart  she 
would  have  re-echoed  Diderot's  resounding  cry, 
"  Enlarge  your  God."  With  fearless  truthfulness, 
Manon's  first  impulse  on  becoming  conscious  of 
her  nascent  doubts  was  to  confide  them  to  her 
confessor,  —  a  little  man  not  wanting  in  sense, 
and  of  unimpeachable  conduct.  Anxious  to  re- 
establish her  shaken  faith,  he  lent  her  a  number 
of  works  by  the  champions  of  Christianity.  The 
curious  part  of  this  transaction  was,  that,  on  learn- 
ing the  names  of  the  authors  attacked  in  these 
controversial  writings,  she  took  care  to  procure 
them  also,  and  thus  came  to  read  Diderot,  D'Alem- 
bert,  Raynal's  "  Systeme  de  la  Nature,"  —  passing 
in  course  of  time  through  many  intellectual  stages, 
in  which  she  was  in  turn  Jansenist,  Stoic,  Scep- 
tic, Atheist,  and  Deist.  She  finally  landed  in  a 
frame  of  mind  much  resembling  that  of  the  mod- 
ern Agnostic ;  content  to  admit  that  there  is  an 
Unknowable,  and  that  there  "  are  many  things  in 
heaven  and  earth  "  insoluble  by  the  best  patented 
philosophies,  whether  material  or  otherwise.  For 
the  rest,  she  says  that  at  one  time,  while  intent 
on  the  study  of  Descartes  and  Malebranche,  she 
used  curiously  to  watch  her  kitten,  considering  it 
as  a  piece  of  mechanism  going  through  its  evolu- 
tions.    But  it  seemed  to  her  that  in  separating 


28  MADAME  ROLAND. 

feeling  from  its  manifestations  she  was  dissecting 
the  world  and  robbing  it  of  all  its  charms  ;  and 
she  would  sooner  have  adopted  Spinoza's  view, 
and  ascribed  a  soul  to  everything,  rather  than  go 
without  the  belief  in  one.  But  on  the  whole, 
whenever  her  feelings  were  deeply  moved  she 
willingly  recurred  to  the  belief  in  a  beneficent 
Creator  and  the  immortality  of  the  soul.  While 
these  thoughts  were  agitating  her  inwardly,  she 
was  fearful  of  communicating  them  to  Sophie,  for 
fear  of  exposing  her  to  like  mental  disturbances. 
But  what  was  her  surprise  on  learning  from  her 
friend's  letter  that,  without  any  prompting  from 
without,  she  had  been  passing  through  a  similar 
crisis  !  In  her  delight  at  this  news,  she  writes  in 
May,  1772  :  — 

"  By  what  strange  coincidence  of  mutual  similarity  do 
you  always  trace  my  story  in  writing  your  own  ?  Or  rather, 
why  does  the  openness  with  which  you  show  me  your  heart 
reproach  me  for  having  hidden  from  you  what  was  passing 
in  mine  ?  Without  wishing  to  excuse  my  silence,  you  shall 
know  its  reason." 

Superfluous  to  enter  into  her  explanation.  She 
confesses  that  a  high  self-esteem  is  her  besetting 
sin,  ingenuously  exclaiming,  "  I  am  evidently  so 
conceited  that  this  same  self-esteem  hinders  me 
from  seeing  the  many  faults  which  must  of  course 
be  mine."  But  in  reality  she  was  not  so  far  wrong, 
and  had  hit  her  one  cardinal  failing  :  for  her  physi- 


SOPHIE.  29 

cal,  moral,  and  intellectual  attributes  were  so  finely- 
balanced  as  to  make  her  an  exceptionally  complete 
human  being;  nor  was  she  so  much  mistaken  in 
her  estimate  of  Sophie.  Her  instinctive  hesitation 
in  disturbing  her  friend's  convictions  shows  a  fine 
insight  into  character;  for  this  young  lady,  cut 
adrift  from  her  old  moorings,  tossed  violently  from 
opinion  to  opinion,  and  after  much  mental  pertur- 
bation lapsed  again  into  Catholicism.  Manon's 
epistolary  tone  during  these  mental  distresses  is 
gentle,  as  towards  a  sick  child.  With  much  phil- 
osophy, she  is  equally  ready  to  utter  her  thoughts 
as  frankly  as  heretofore,  or  to  hold  her  tongue, 
whichever  may  best  suit  her  friend's  mood.  But 
outspoken  sincerity  or  tolerant  silence  were  alike 
intolerable  to  Sophie.  Nothing  would  content 
her  but  that  her  friend  should  retrace  her  steps 
and  re-enter  the  fold.  This  being  impossible,  the 
old  effusiveness  at  times  suffered  some  constraint, 
which,  however,  disappeared  when  the  Cannets 
paid  an  occasional  visit  to  Paris. 

Manon's  natural  bias  became  gradually  more 
manifest,  and  preoccupations  with  man's  social 
well-being  engaged  her  in  preference  to  theologi- 
cal and  metaphysical  subjects.  During  her  mother's 
lifetime  she  must  also  have  observed  a  certain  re- 
serve as  regards  some  topics,  for  she  dreaded 
nothing  more  than  hurting  her  feelings.  Deeply 
as  she  loved  her  mother,  a  subtle  reticence  had 


30  MADAME  ROLAND. 

sprung  up  between  them,  especially  since  Manon 
had  emerged  from  childhood.  Madame  Phlipon's 
deep  but  undemonstrative  feelings  did  not  call  forth 
that  full  flow  of  confidence  which  the  daughter, 
with  some  encouragement,  would  have  been  pre- 
pared to  indulge  in.  In  order  to  know  what  was 
passing  in  Manon's  mind,  the  copious  epistles  to 
Sophie  were  usually  left  unsealed  on  the  table  for 
a  while  ;  and,  without  any  explicit  understanding, 
Madame  Phlipon  could  make  herself  acquainted 
with  their  contents.  Outwardly  Manon  not  only 
conformed  to  her  mother's  religious  practices  dur- 
ing the  latter's  lifetime,  but  she  held  that  a  woman 
was  bound  to  do  so,  whatever  her  opinions,  for  the 
sake  of  those  "weaker  brethren"  whose  conduct 
would  be  modelled  on  her  own.  So  that  after  her 
mother's  death  she  still  continued  attending  divine 
service  for  the  sake  of  their  trusty  old  domestic 
Mignonne,  whose  highest  wish  was  to  die  in  the 
service  of  her  young  mistress. 


CHAPTER   III. 


TWO   QUEENS. 


The  announcement  of  Louis  XV.'s  mortal  illness 
found  an  echo  even  in  the  secluded  life  of  the 
humble  engraver's  family.  Writing  to  her  friend 
at  Amiens  on  the  9th  May,  1774,  Manon  remarks  : 

"  Although  the  obscurity  of  my  birth,  name,  and  position 
seem  to  preclude  me  from  taking  any  interest  in  the  Govern- 
ment, yet  I  feel  that  the  common  weal  touches  me  in  spite 
of  it.  My  country  is  something  to  me,  and  the  love  I  bear 
it  is  most  unquestionable.  How  could  it  be  otherwise,  since 
nothing  in  the  world  is  indifferent  to  me  ?  I  am  something 
of  a  cosmopolitan,  and  a  love  of  humanity  unites  me  to 
everything  that  breathes.  A  Caribbean  interests  me  ;  the 
fate  of  a  Kaffir  goes  to  my  heart.  Alexander  wished  for 
more  worlds  to  conquer ;  I  could  wish  for  others  to  love." 

Magnificent  humanitarian  cry  to  have  burst  from 
the  lips  of  this  lovely  recluse  of  twenty  ! 

And  while  a  young  girl  on  the  Quai  de  l'Hor- 
loge  felt  the  deep  stirrings  of  a  woman's  heart  for 
a  people  whose  suffering  condition  she  had  not 
apprehended  as  yet,  another  girl  —  also  in  her 
first  bewitching  bloom  —  ascended  the  throne  of 
France,  and  was  hailed  by  Burke,  as  "just  above 
the  horizon,  decorating  and  cheering  the  elevated 


32  MADAME  ROLAND. 

sphere  she  just  began  to  move  in,  glittering  like 
the  morning  star,  full  of  life  and  splendor  and 
joy." 

It  is  curious  to  remember  that  these  two  women, 
born  in  such  opposite  ranks,  —  the  one  on  a  throne, 
the  other  in  a  workshop,  —  destined  one  day  to 
play  such  opposite  parts  in  the  approaching  politi- 
cal tragedy,  both  destined  to  perish  amid  the  clash 
of  warring  social  forces,  were  for  a  short  time  at 
this  the  spring-time  of  their  lives  lodged  in  the 
same  palace,  where  Marie  Antoinette  reigned  in 
the  lustre  of  royalty,  while  Marie  Jeanne  looked 
on  critically  from  the  back-stairs.  It  gives  one 
some  food  for  reflection  to  compare  these  two 
natures,  and  to  observe  that  the  daughter  of  a 
long  line  of  sovereigns  was  a  mere  giddy,  frivo- 
lous,-thoughtless  school-girl,  while  the  daughter 
of  the  enameller  had  matured  her  mind  by  long 
hours  of  study  and  meditation,  and  even  at  this 
early  age  showed  an  irrepressible  interest  in  pub- 
lic affairs  whenever  they  came  within  her  ken.  If 
faculty  demand  function,  surely  one  of  these  two 
girls  was  by  nature  anointed  Queen  of  France, — 
and  that  one  was  not  Marie  Antoinette.  But  from 
the  round  men  stuck  into  three-cornered  holes, 
and  three-cornered  men  jammed  into  round  holes, 
springs  half  the  mischief  of  the  world.  Marie 
Jeanne  might  have  made  an  incomparable  ruler ; 
Marie  Antoinette's  cravings  for  pleasure  might 


TWO   QUEENS.  33 

have  remained  the  harmless  vagaries  of  a  beautiful 
woman.  But  these  vagaries,  in  the  position  to 
which  circumstances  had  condemned  her,  assumed 
the  proportions  of  a  crime.  So  far  from  any  yearn- 
ing of  compassion  for  Kaffirs  or  Caribbeans,  what 
cared  Marie  Antoinette  for  the  French  people, 
who,  ground  down  by  a  system  of  infamous  taxa- 
tion, toiled  and  moiled  in  semi-starvation  that 
Court  and  nobles  might  enjoy  the  greater  luxury  ? 
What  cared  she  for  the  peasants  who,  sooner  than 
cultivate  the  fruitful  champaigns,  chose  to  uproot 
their  vines  because  of  the  exorbitant  dues  which 
made  hard  work  as  useless  as  idleness  ?  She  could 
care  nothing  for  these  things,  since  she  knew  noth- 
ing whatever  of  the  condition  of  the  people  whose 
Queen  she  was. 

Her  peep  at  this  royal  show  must  have  been 
not  a  little  suggestive  to  Marie  Phlipon,  when 
taken  by  her  mother  to  pass  a  week  at  Versailles 
in  the  autumn  of  1774.  Accompanied  by  the 
Abbe  Bimont  and  his  housekeeper,  they  were 
lodged  in  the  attics,  one  of  the  female  servants 
of  the  palace  being  a  friend  of  theirs.  The 
sumptuous  repasts,  receptions,  plays,  balls,  card- 
parties,  and  what  not,  passing  in  succession  be- 
fore the  eyes  of  Plutarch's  disciple,  shocked  her 
sense  of  justice  and  hurt  her  pride.  While  she 
stood  there  among  the  crowd,  she  must  often 
from    a  distance   have   seen    the    radiant   young 


34  MADAME  ROLAND. 

queen,  brightly  blazing  amid  her  favorite  attend- 
ants, and  recognized  Louis  XVI. *s  bluff,  un- 
gainly bearing  amid  the  obsequious  swarm  of 
elegant  courtiers.  And  as  the  dazzling  pictures 
of  court-life  were  passing  before  her,  did  she 
foresee  that  presently,  as  in  a  play,  the  scene 
would  be  shifted,  and  that  this  same  brilliant 
Court  would  quake  to  the  tramp  of  an  infuriated 
mob  of  women, — menacing,  haggard,  dishevelled, 
half-starved,  —  till  under  the  very  walls  of  the 
Palace  of  Versailles,  with  its  daintily-fed  inmates, 
rang  out  the  terrible  cry  for  bread  ?  And  that, 
again,  presently  King  and  Queen,  courtiers  and 
all,  would  be  swept  in  the  revolutionary  tornado 
from  the  very  face  of  the  earth  ?  No,  these 
things  were  as  yet  only  darkly  brewing  in  the 
future;  but  Manon,  disgusted  with  the  Court, 
and  impatiently  awaiting  the  moment  of  depar- 
ture, took  more  pleasure  in  looking  at  the  statues 
in  the  gardens  than  at  the  personages  in  the 
palace.  To  her  mother's  inquiry  if  she  were 
pleased  with  her  visit,  she  answered,  "  Provided 
it  is  soon  over ;  otherwise  I  shall  detest  these 
people  so  heartily  that  I  shall  not  know  what  to 
do  with  my  hatred."  And  to  the  question  of 
what  harm  they  had  done,  she  replied,  "  To  make 
me  feel  injustice  and  see  absurdity."  "A  benev- 
olent monarch,"  she  wrote  afterwards  to  Sophie, 
u  appears  to  me  almost  adorable  ;   but  if,  before 


TWO   QUEENS.  35 

my  birth,  I  had  been  given  the  choice  of  a  Gov- 
ernment, I  would  have  declared  in  favor  of  a 
Republic." 

Once  at  home,  Manon  turned  with  renewed 
zest  to  her  books.  She  became  so  interested  in 
the  study  of  geometry,  that,  being  too  poor  to  buy 
a  certain  treatise  which  had  been  lent  her,  she 
actually  copied  the  whole  of  it.  Presently  a 
fresh  disturbance  from  without  was  not  without 
exercising  a  permanent  influence  on  her  mind. 
One  day  she  was  startled  from  her  studies  by 
the  tramping  of  an  excited  crowd  hurrying  to 
the  Place  de  la  Greve  (the  place  of  execution), 
where  two  young  parricides  were  condemned  to 
.suffer  death  by  the  wheel  and  the  stake.  People 
had  crowded  to  the  very  roofs  of  houses  to  wit- 
ness this  appalling  punishment.  However  much 
the  girl  shrank  from  the  abominable  sight,  she 
could  not  shut  out  the  shrieks  of  the  wretches 
nor  the  smell  of  the  burning  fagots !  Their 
cries  were  heard  from  her  mother's  bed,  for  one 
of  the  criminals  lived  for  twelve  hours  on  the 
wheel.  All  night  this  hideous  occurrence  racked 
her.  However  shocked  at  the  crime,  she  was 
even  more  so  at  people  who  could  find  pleasure 
in  such  a  sight      She  writes  :  — 

"  In  truth,  human  nature  is  not  at  all  estimable  con- 
sidered en  masse.  I  cannot  conceive  what  can  thus 
excite  the  curiosity  of  thousands  to  see  two  of  their  fellow- 


36  MADAME  ROLAND. 

creatures  die.  The  popularity  of  the  gladiatorial  fights  in 
Rome  no  longer  surprises  me.  A  kind  of  ferocity,  a  cer- 
tain taste  for  blood,  must  be  latent  in  the  human  heart. 
But,  no!  that  I  cannot  believe.  I  imagine  that  we  all  of 
us  love  strong  impressions,  because  they  give  us  a  lively 
sense  of  existence  ;  and  the  same  taste  which  takes  the 
educated  people  to  the  theatres  carries  the  populace  to  the 
Place  de  la  Greve.  Yes,  the  pitiless  mob  applauded  the  tor- 
tures of  the  criminal  as  if  at  a  play.  Of  course  his  crime 
was  horrible  ;  but  at  such  instants  one  forgets  the  criminal 
and  his  crime,  only  to  feel  the  agony  of  a  fellow- being,  and 
suffering  nature  makes  herself  one  with  pain.  I  confess 
that  I  feel  contempt  for  men,  as  well  as  love  ;  they  are  so 
bad  or  so  mad  that  it  is  impossible  not  to  despise  them. 
On  the  other  hand,  they  are  so  wretched  that  it  is  just  as 
impossible  to  help  pitying  and  loving  them.  Ah  !  I  was 
not  prepared  for  these  strange  and  violent  impressions 
which  have  come  to  trouble  my  ideas,  and  to  modify  my 
whole  being  in  quite  a  new  manner." 

Here,  then,  we  have  the  first  heart-throb  of  pity 
and  yearning  over  the  suffering  multitudes,  which 
was  never  to  cease  till  her  own  heart  ceased  to 
beat.  Descending  from  the  serene  heights  of 
placid  philosophical  meditations,  she  looked  at 
-the  world  she  lived  in,  and  what  she  saw  filled 
her  soul  with  a  shuddering  awe.  Louis  Blanc  is 
surely  mistaken  when  he  avers,  in  one  passage 
of  his  "  History  of  the  French  Revolution,"  that 
Madame  Roland,  unlike  Rousseau,  had  no  feel- 
ing for  the  common  people.  On  the  contrary, 
she  felt   the   strongest   love   and   commiseration 


TWO   QUEENS.  37 

for  them.  The  reasons  on  which  he  bases  this 
assertion  are,  her  speaking  rather  contemptuously 
of  shop-keepers,  and  her  aversion  to  taking  a  hus- 
band from  that  class  in  marriage.  The  reasons 
which  she  herself  gives  for  her  dislike  show  that 
it  arose  from  a  strong  democratic  feeling,  as  will 
be  seen  in  a  subsequent  chapter.  Certain  it  is 
that  henceforth  she  begins  to  be  more  and  more 
preoccupied  with  the  social  condition  of  men,  for, 
in  one  of  her  letters  to  Sophie,  she  says  that  in 
her  eyes  the  first  and  most  beautiful  of  all  the 
virtues  is  the  care  for  the  common  weal,  the 
love  of  the  unfortunate,  and  the  desire  to  help 
them. 

And  already  there  were  many  signs  and  por- 
tents of  the  coming  events.  Like  that  little  cloud 
which,  no  bigger  than  a  man's  hand  in  a  seem- 
ingly windless  sky,  is  seen  weirdly  flying  across 
the  heavens,  and  known  by  mariners  to  forebode 
the  gathering  of  the  hurricane,  there  were  sudden 
outbreaks  and  bread-riots,  from  which  those  who 
can  read  signs  augured  the  brewing  tempest. 

In  1775  Marie  alludes  to  a  popular  agitation 
which  breaks  out,  now  in  one  spot  and  now  in 
another,  owing  to  the  scarcity  of  provisions.  In 
the  May  of  that  year,  she  wrote  that,  in  spite  of 
certain  edicts  of  the  Ministry  with  regard  to  im- 
portation of  grain  from  abroad,  high  prices  have 
ruled  in  the  markets ;  and  that  the  people,  spurred 


38  MADAME  ROLAND. 

on  by  want,  have  raised  loud  outcries,  in  some 
instances  forcing  the  shop-keepers  to  sell  their 
provisions  at  a  lower  price,  or  else  plundering 
their  premises.  Crowd  after  crowd  assembled 
before  the  bakers'  shops,  and  the  wisest  closed 
their  shutters  and  threw  the  loaves  out  of  win- 
dow. She  draws  a  most  moving  picture  of  these 
famished  wretches,  cadaverous  with  hunger,  beat- 
ing a  devil's  tattoo  on  the  shutters,  jostling  and 
pressing  each  other  in  their  need,  and  with  greedy 
eyes  watching  the  loaves,  as  they  stumble  over 
each  other  in  their  hot  haste  to  catch  them  ! 
This  disturbance  was  at  last  allayed  by  a  reduc- 
tion of  the  price  of  bread  to  a  loaf  of  two  sous, 
and  Manon  dilates  on  the  singular  appearance  of 
the  crowd,  now  appeased,  if  only  for  the  present. 
"  Some  of  the  people,"  she  writes,  "  caper  about 
with  loaves  hugged  in  their  arms,  carrying  them 
in  triumph,  and  manifesting  the  pleasure  of  satis- 
fied hunger  by  the  most  energetic  gestures.  In 
many  quarters,"  she  continues,  "  the  disturbance 
would  hardly  have  been  perceived  had  it  not  been 
for  the  pusillanimity  of  the  shop-keepers,  who  all 
closed  their  shutters."  She  herself  was  a  witness 
of  one  of  these  panics.  On  entering  a  church  to 
hear  Mass,  three  or  four  children  came  running 
in  to  seek  shelter  from  a  mob  that  was  making 
for  a  neighboring  baker.  Great  alarm  on  the 
part  of  the  beadles  and  the  female  chair-hirers, 


TWO  QUEENS.  39 

who,  violently  shutting  the  doors,  would  naturally 
have  led  the  otherwise  unsuspecting  congregation 
to  think  that  enraged  ravishers  were  coming  to 
violate  the  most  sacred  of  shrines.  "The  poor 
people  only  wanted  bread,  and  thought  not  of 
altars,"  she  says ;  adding  significantly,  "  the  sight 
of  these  things  gives  one  quite  a  new  kind  of 
feeling,  and  awakens  a  host  of  thoughts." 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MOTHER   AND    DAUGHTER. 

Manon's  life  was  not  always  darkened  by  images 
of  fearful  punishments  and  famished  crowds,  nor 
did  she  perpetually  pore  over  the  Greek  classics 
and  modern  encyclopaedists.  She  sometimes  went 
to  Christmas  and  birthday  gatherings,  given  by 
one  or  other  of  her  many  relatives,  and  would 
draw  a  half  ironical  picture  of  herself  to  her  friend 
as  gliding  along  a  room  in  floating  pink  draperies 
trimmed  with  roses.  But  her  gravity  did  not  re- 
sist the  infection  of  pleasure  when  at  a  ball,  and 
she  seems  to  have  footed  it  on  "  the  light  fantastic 
toe"  with  the  merriest  madcap  of  them  all.  At 
other  times,  although  but  rarely,  she  and  her 
mother  would  attend  what  we  should  now  call 
"  Musical  At-Homes."  At  the  house  of  a  certain 
Madame  Lcpine,  Manon  got  a  glimpse  of  some  of 
the  lesser  litterateurs  of  Paris,  who,  she  says,  used 
to  meet  in  a  dingy  room  up  three  flights  of  stairs, 
and,  lit  up  by  tallow  candles  in  dirty  brass  candle- 
sticks, would  recite  their  verses  or  play  their  com- 
positions. But  this  glimpse  of  literary  society  — 
third-rate  it  is  true  —  had  no  attraction  for  Marie, 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  4 1 

who,  although  born  and  bred  in  Paris,  always  pre- 
ferred a  country  to  a  town  life.  To  live  on  your 
own  plot  of  ground,  to  grow  your  own  fruits  and 
vegetables,  to  taste  the  living  sweetness  of  the  air, 
seemed  to  her  the  most  exquisite  lot ;  and  when- 
ever there  was  any  question  as  to  where  the  family 
should  go  for  their  Sunday  excursion,  she  pleaded 
for  Meudon.  One  of  the  most  charming  passages 
in  her  Memoirs  is  the  description  of  such  a  trip  : 

"  We  went  often  to  Meudon,  it  was  my  favorite  walk  ;  I 
preferred  its  wild  woods,  its  solitary  ponds,  its  avenues  of 
pines,  its  towering  trees,  to  the  crowded  paths  and  monoto- 
nous groves  of  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  to  the  ornamental 
gardens  of  Bellevue,  or  the  clipped  alleys  of  St.  Cloud. 
1  Where  shall  we  go  to-morrow  ?  '  quoth  my  father,  on  the 
Saturday  evenings  during  summer-time  ;  '  the  fountains 
are  to  play  ;  there  will  be  a  world  of  company.'  '  Oh, 
Papa !  If  you  would  only  go  to  Meudon,  I  should  like  it 
so  much  better.'  At  five  o'clock  on  a  Sunday  morning 
everybody  was  astir.  A  fresh  simple  muslin  frock,  a  few 
flowers  and  a  gauze  veil,  showed  the  plans  of  the  day. 
The  Odes  of  Rousseau,  a  play  by  Corneille,  or  some  other 
author,  formed  my  only  baggage.  Then  the  three  of  us  set 
off  and  embarked  at  the  Pont  Royal  (which  I  could  see 
from  my  window)  on  board  a  little  boat,  which  carried  us 
with  delightful  rapidity  to  the  shores  of  Bellevue,  not  far 
from  the  glassworks,  the  dense  black  smoke  of  which  is 
seen  from  a  great  distance.  Thence  by  a  steep  ascent  we 
proceeded  to  the  avenue  of  Meudon,  about  the  middle  of 
which  we  had  noticed  a  little  house  on  the  right,  which  be- 
came one  of  our  halting  places.     .     .    . 


42  MADAME  ROLAND. 

"  One  day,  after  having  rambled  about  for  a  long  time  In 
an  unfrequented  part  of  the  wood,  we  reached  an  open  and 
solitary  spot,  at  the  end  of  an  avenue  of  tall  trees,  where 
promenaders  were  but  rarely  seen  ;  a  few  more  trees, 
scattered  on  a  charming  lawn,  seemed  to  screen  a  prettily- 
built  cottage,  two  stories  high.  Ah  !  what  have  we  here  ? 
Two  pretty  children  were  playing  before  the  door.  They 
had  neither  a  town-bred  air,  nor  those  signs  of  misery  so 
common  to  the  country  ;  on  drawing  nearer  we  noticed  a 
kitchen-garden,  where  an  old  man  was  at  work.  To  walk 
in  and  enter  into  conversation  with  him  was  the  affair  of 
an  instant.  We  learned  that  the  place  was  called  Ville 
Bonne  ;  that  its  inhabitant  was  the  water-bailiff  of  the 
Moulin-Rouge,  whose  office  it  was  to  see  that  the  canals 
conveying  water  to  the  different  parts  of  the  park  were 
kept  in  repair ;  that  the  slender  salary  of  this  place  helped 
to  support  a  young  couple,  the  parents  of  the  children 
we  had  seen,  and  of  whom  the  old  man  was  the  grand- 
father; that  the  wife  was  engaged  in  the  cares  of  the 
household,  while  the  old  man  cultivated  the  garden,  the 
produce  of  which  his  son  in  leisure  moments  went  to  sell 
in  town.  This  garden  was  a  long  square,  divided  into  four 
parts,  round  each  of  which  was  a  good-sized  walk  ;  a  pond 
in  the  centre  facilitated  irrigation;  and  at  the  farther  end  an 
arbor  of  yews,  with  a  large  stone  seat,  afforded  rest  and 
shelter.  Flowers,  intermixed  with  vegetables,  gave  the 
garden  a  gay  and  agreeable  appearance  ;  while  the  robust 
and  contented  gardener  reminded  me  of  the  old  man  on 
the  banks  of  the  Galesus,  whom  Virgil  has  sung.  We  in- 
quired whether  they  were  not  in  the  habit  of  receiving 
strangers.  '  Few  come  this  way,'  replied  the  old  man  ; 
i  the  place  is  little  known  ;  but  if  by  chance  any  come,  we 
never  refuse  such  fare  as  our  farm-yard  and  kitchen-garden 
afford.'     We  begged  something  for  dinner,  and  were  pres- 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  43 

ently  served  with  new-laid  eggs,  vegetables,  and  salads, 
in  a  delicious  arbor  of  honeysuckle  behind  the  house.  I 
never  made  so  agreeable  a  meal ;  my  heart  expanded  in 
the  innocent  enjoyment  of  this  charming  situation.  I  fon- 
dled the  little  children  and  showed  my  veneration  for  the 
old  man.  The  young  woman  seemed  pleased  to  have  given 
us  accommodation  ;  there  was  some  talk  of  two  rooms 
which  might  be  let  to  persons  desirous  of  taking  them  for 
three  months  ;  and  we  had  an  idea  of  doing  so.  This  de- 
lightful intention  was  never  destined  to  be  realized ;  nor 
have  I  ever  again  revisited  Ville  Bonne." 

About  this  time  Madame  Phlipon's  health  be- 
gan gradually  to  decline.  She  grew  more  serious 
and  taciturn,  and  stirred  less  from  home  than  for- 
merly. Grief  and  anxiety  may  also  have  helped  the 
ravages  of  disease  ;  for  her  husband  had  insensi- 
bly begun  to  neglect  his  business,  to  go  frequently 
abroad,  and  to  have  fits  of  irritability  and  ill-tem- 
per, which  his  wife  bore  with  invariable  patience 
and  good-humor.  If  they  happened  to  differ  on 
any  subject,  although  she  was  his  superior  in 
every  respect,  she  gave  up  her  own  opinion  with 
the  greatest  willingness  for  the  sake  of  domestic 
peace.  So  that  her  daughter  never  suspected  till 
she  was  grown  up  that  her  mother's  life  might 
not  possibly  be  as  smooth  as  it  appeared  on  the 
surface.  When  she  was  older,  she  often  noticed 
her  father's  weak  points  in  these  conjugal  argu- 
ments, and,  availing  herself  of  the  ascendancy 
she  at  this  time  had  over  him,  always  took  her 


44  MADAME  ROLAND. 

mother's  part,  and  not  inaptly  called  herself  her 
watch-dog. 

Madame  Phlipon,  no  doubt,  felt  that  her  strength 
was  failing,  and  her  experience  must  have  warned 
her  of  some  of  the  trials  that  were  in  store  for  her 
daughter  when  she  should  be  no  more.  Her  eyes 
used  to  follow  the  girl  about  everywhere  with  a 
wistful  tenderness,  and  she  seemed,  as  it  were,  to 
envelop  her  with  the  brooding  intensity  of  mater- 
nal love,  —  a  love  that  yearned  to  see  her  child 
sheltered  in  some  home  of  her  own  before  death 
snatched  from  her  a  mother's  care.  Without  ex- 
actly daring  to  utter  all  she  thought  and  feared, 
she  would  often  urge  Manon  to  accept  one  of  the 
many  suitors  who  sought  her  in  marriage.  At 
first  she  did  not  particularly  press  the  matter,  but 
when  Manon  was  twenty-one  she  entreated  her 
earnestly  to  accept  a  certain  respectable  jeweller 
who  had  proposed  to  her.  She  represented  to 
her  daughter  that  here  was  a  man  in  a  comfortable 
position,  honest,  upright,  and  of  good  reputation, 
who  had  the  highest  regard  for  her,  and  was  quite 
willing  to  follow  her  lead.  The  following  dia- 
logue, given  in  the  Memoirs  brings  the  situation 
vividly  before  one.     Quoth  Manon  :  — 

"  But,  Mamma,  I  don't  want  a  husband  whom  I  am  to 
guide  :  he  would  be  too  big  a  child  for  me." 

11  Do  you  know  that  you  are  a  very  whimsical  girl,  for  you 
would  certainly  not  like  a  master  ?  " 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  45 

"  Let  us  understand  each  other,  dear  Mamma  ;  I  should 
not  like  a  husband  to  order  me  about,  he  would  only  teach 
me  to  resist  him  ;  but  neither  do  I  wish  to  rule  my  husband. 
Either  I  am  much  mistaken,  or  those  creatures  six  feet  high, 
with  beards  on  their  chins,  seldom  fail  to  make  us  feel  they 
are  the  stronger  ;  now,  if  the  good  man  should  suddenly 
bethink  himself  to  remind  me  of  his  strength,  he  would  pro- 
voke me,  and  if  he  submitted  to  me  I  should  be  ashamed 
of  my  own  power." 

"  I  see ;  you  would  like  a  man  to  think  himself  the  master 
while  obeying  you  in  everything." 

Thus  the  pair  argued  without  any  decisive  re- 
sult ;  till  Madame  Phlipon,  hinting  at  the  possi- 
bility of  being  taken  from  her  daughter,  pointed 
out  that,  more  than  twenty  as  she  was,  suitors 
would  no  longer  be  as  plentiful  as  during  the  last 
five  years,  and  begged  her  therefore  not  to  reject 
a  man  who  if  he  were  not  her  equal  in  intellect 
and  taste  would  at  least  love  her,  and  with  whom 
she  might  be  happy.  "  Yes,  Mamma,"  cried  she, 
with  a  deep  sigh,  "happy  as  you  have  been!" 
Her  mother  was  disconcerted,  and  made  no  reply  ; 
nor  from  that  moment  did  she  open  her  lips  again 
on  that  or  any  other  match,  at  least  in  a  pressing 
manner.  The  exclamation  had  escaped  the  daugh- 
ter without  premeditation  ;  its  effect  convinced 
her  she  had  touched  a  sore  spot. 

In  the  spring  of  1775  Madame  Phlipon's  health 
had  grown  so  much  worse  that  they  resolved  on 
trying  a  short  stay  at  Meudon  during  the  Whitsun 


46  MADAME  ROLAND. 

holidays,  and  by  it  she  was  much  benefited. 
Returned  to  Paris,  her  daughter  left  her  for  a  few 
hours,  fairly  well  as  it  seemed,  to  pay  a  visit  to 
Sister  Agathe  ;  but  no  sooner  had  she  reached 
the  convent  than  an  unaccountable  anxiety  hur- 
ried her  home  again. 

Madame  Roland  says  that  these  presentiments 
of  a  coming  trouble  were  never  by  her  laid  to  the 
account  of  superstition,  but  that,  loving  her  mother 
above  everything  on  earth,  she  had,  without  know- 
ing it,  noticed  certain  slight  changes  in  manner 
and  appearance  which  served  vaguely  to  disturb 
her.  On  this  particular  occasion  she  felt  such  a 
sinking  of  the  heart  that  she  impatiently  hurried 
home,  to  find  the  street-door  standing  wide  open, 
while  a  young  neighbor  exclaimed  on  seeing  her, 
"  Oh !  Miss,  your  Mamma  is  very  ill ;  she  has 
sent  for. my  mother,  who  is  up  in  the  bed-room 
with  her."  To  utter  an  inarticulate  cry,  to  fly  up 
the  stairs,  hurry  into  the  room,  and  find  her 
mother  lying  back  in  her  easy-chair,  with  arms 
helplessly  hanging  over  it,  wildly-rolling  eyes, 
mouth  wide  open,  was  the  affair  of  an  instant.  At 
the  sight  of  Manon  some  animation  returned  to 
her  face  ;  she  made  ineffectual  efforts  to  speak, 
tried  to  lift  her  arms,  and  with  a  supreme  effort  of 
will  raised  her  hand,  and  gently  stroking  the  girl's 
cheeks  as  if  to  calm  her,  wiped  the  streaming 
tears  from  her  face.     With  that  last  upflickering 


MOTHER  AND  DAUGHTER.  47 

of  love,  her  limbs  grew  rigid  ;  she  would  fain  have 
smiled,  have  spoken  some  parting  words  of  con- 
solation, but  it  was  in  vain. 

Her  daughter  seemed  to  multiply  herself  to 
assist  in  saving  her  dying  mother.  She  sent  for 
the  doctor,  for  her  father  ;  she  flew  to  the  apothe- 
cary and  back  ;  she  administered  an  emetic ;  she 
helped  her  mother  to  bed  ;  but  nothing  availed. 
Her  eyes  closed,  her  head  fell  forward  on  her 
breast,  her  breathing  became  increasingly  painful, 
and  at  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening,  as  in  a  dream, 
Manon  heard  the  doctor  and  her  father  sending 
for  a  priest  to  administer  extreme  unction.  Stand- 
ing at  the  foot  of  the  bed,  mechanically  holding  a 
candle  in  her  hand  while  the  priest  was  praying, 
with  eyes  fixed  on  her  mother,  she  never  stirred, 
till  suddenly  the  light  dropped  from  her  grasp 
and  she  fell  senseless  on  the  floor.  When  she 
came  back  to  consciousness  her  mother  was  no 
more.  The  sighs  and  tears  of  those  around,  her 
father's  livid  face,  the  whispers  and  muffled  inqui- 
ries, the  efforts  of  the  bystanders  to  withhold  her 
entrance  into  the  room,  whence  she  had  been 
carried,  served  but  too  clearly  to  tell  the  tale. 
Presently  she  managed  to  escape  unperceived,  and 
rushing  back  to  her  mother  flung  herself  on  the 
bed  in  a  transport  of  grief,  and  pressing  her  mouth 
to  the  cold,  livid  lips,  tried  to  inhale  death  and 
perish  with  her. 


48  MADAME  ROLAND. 

With  that  mother  ended  the  careless,  sweet, 
happy  spring-time  of  Manon's  life.  It  was  she 
who  had  shielded  her  from  all  rough  contact  with 
the  world,  down  to  those  trivial  interruptions  of 
domestic  life  which  eat  out  the  heart  of  time  ;  it 
was  she  who  had  created  around  her  an  atmos- 
phere of  exquisite  peace  and  purity,  interposing 
as  a  shield  between  her  and  the  tainted  manners  of 
the  time  ;  and  now  that  the  young  tree  had  grown 
tall  and  lusty,  the  fencing  shelter  was  removed, 
and  adverse  winds  were  presently  to  try  what  it 
was  made  of. 


CHAPTER  V. 

manon's  suitors. 

After  her  mother's  death,  Manon  passed  a  fort- 
night in  a  very  precarious  state  between  convul- 
sive fits  and  hours  of  mute  prostration,  unrelieved 
by  tears.  To  divert  her  thoughts  from  constantly 
brooding  on  her  loss,  an  abb6,  who  sometimes 
came  to  see  her,  bethought  him  of  lending  her 
the  "  Nouvelle  Heloi'se."  This  book  was  an  era 
in  Madame  Roland's  life.  If  Plutarch  had  in- 
spired her  with  a  love  of  republican  institutions, 
the  "Nouvelle  HeloYse"  showed  her  the  ideal  of 
domestic  life,  and  she  now  eagerly  read  and  re-read 
Rousseau's  works  :  he  became  her  breviary.  Like 
other  devout  worshippers  of  this  oracle  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  she  burned  to  tender  her 
homage  to  The  Master,  as  Boswell  and  as  Gib- 
bon and  hundreds  of  others  had  done,  —  among 
whom  the  redoubtable  Robespierre  is  said  to 
have  been  one.  Chance  seemed  to  favor  Ma- 
non's wishes  ;  for  among  her  acquaintances  there 
happened  to  be  a  Swiss  gentleman,  to  whom,  as 
was  her  habit  with  friends,  she  had  given  a  nick- 

4 


50  MADAME  ROLAND. 

name,  labelling  him  the  "  Philosophical  Repub- 
lican." This  abstraction  of  a  man  —  human 
enough,  however,  to  be  presently  much  in  love 
with  the  fair  Manon  —  was  sufficiently  obliging 
to  make  over  to  her  a  commission  he  had  been 
entrusted  with,  —  that  of  proposing  to  the  im- 
pecunious Rousseau  the  composition  of  some 
musical  airs.  Marie  Phlipon,  delighted  at  this 
opportunity  of  seeing  Rousseau,  immediately  in- 
dited an  elegant  epistle,  setting  forth  its  object, 
adding  that  she  would  do  herself  the  honor  of 
fetching  the  answer  in  person  at  the  stated 
time.  Behold  her  then  sallying  forth  in  com- 
pany with  the  faithful  Mignonne,  in  a  flutter  of 
trepidation,  hurrying  through  the  streets  of  Paris, 
and  arriving  at  last  in  the  Rue  Platriere,  where 
Rousseau  then  lived.  With  the  reverence  with 
which  one  enters  a  temple  she  knocked  at  the 
humble  door,  and  thus  she  afterwards  described 
her  sensations  to  Sophie :  — 

"  It  was  opened  by  a  woman  of  at  least  fifty,  in  a  round 
cap,  a  clean  and  simple  morning  gown  and  a  large  apron. 
She  looked  severe  and  even  a  little  hard. 

"'Madame,  may  I  ask,  does  not  M.  Rousseau  live 
here  ? » 

"  '  Certainly,  Mademoiselle.' 

"  '  Could  I  see  him  ?' 

"  *  What  is  it  you  want  of  him  ?' 

"  '  I  came  for  an  answer  to  a  letter  which  I  wrote  him  a 
few  days  ago.' 


MANON'S  SUITORS.  5 1 

"  *  Mademoiselle,  he  admits  no  one;  but  you  can  tell  the 
people  who  have  dictated  your  letter  —  for,  of  course,  you 
never  wrote  such  a  letter  as  that  — ' 

"  '  Excuse  me,'  I  interrupted. 

"  '  The  handwriting  alone  shows  it  to  be  by  a  man.' 

"  '  Would  you  like  to  see  me  write  ?  '  I  asked,  laughing. 

"  She  shook  her  head,  adding  :  '  All  that  I  am  empow- 
ered to  tell  you  is  that  my  husband  has  absolutely  given  u$ 
doing  things  of  that  sort ;  he  would  wish  nothing  better 
than  to  be  of  service,  but  he  is  of  an  age  to  take  some 
rest.' 

"  '  I  know  it,  but  I  would  have  felt  flattered  to  have  had 
my  answer  from  his  own  lips  ;  and  I  will,  at  least,  seize  this 
occasion  to  express  my  veneration  for  the  man  whom  I  es- 
teem the  most  in  all  the  world.     Pray  accept  it,  Madame.' 

"  She  thanked  me  by  keeping  her  hand  on  the  lock  as  I 
went  downstairs." 

And  so  while  everywhere  young  hearts  were 
yearning  to  do  him  homage,  Rousseau  himself, 
shrinking  from  contact  with  his  kind,  was  gnawed, 
cankered,  by  that  worst  disease  of  the  mind, — 
the  dreadful  horror  of  imagining  an  enemy  in 
every  one  who  sought  to  approach  him.  Perhaps, 
while  outside  the  ardent  girl  waited  eagerly  to  tell 
the  author  of  the  "  Nouvelle  Hcloi'se  "  what  an 
unpayable  debt  she  owed  him,  the  man,  whose 
burning  thoughts  were  now  alive  within  her,  hid 
himself  like  some  dumb,  wounded  animal.  He 
did  not  know,  alas !  that  at  his  door,  vainly  knock- 
ing for  admittance,  stood  his  very  own  daughter 
(for  we  are  not  only  born  in  the  flesh  but  in  the 


52  MADAME  ROLAND. 

spirit)  ;  that  there,  young  and  strong,  beautiful 
and  impassioned  with  thought,  there  waited  one 
ready  to  render  back  to  him  in  his  old  age  the 
spiritual  glow  he  had  once  emitted  —  he  did  not 
know  —  and,  with  only  a  wall  between,  they 
crossed  each  other  unseen,  never  to  meet  on 
earth.  But  while  the  poor,  time-battered  body 
of  the  man  was  dragging  out  the  last  few  years 
of  abject  wretchedness,  his  spirit  had  gone  forth 
from  him,  swaying  thousands  of  minds,  as  the 
vivifying  west  wind  stirs  the  boughs  of  a  vernal 
forest.  Like  Jubal  —  the  inventor  of  the  lyre  — 
in  George  Eliot's  fine  conception,  who  dies  broken- 
hearted by  the  wayside  while  the  people  pass  on 
triumphantly  chanting  his  praises,  Rousseau  too 
was  miserably  perishing,  even  while  his  thought 
was  becoming  a  living  force  which 

"  Set  the  world  in  flame, 
Nor  ceased  to  burn  till  kingdoms  were  no  more." 

In  1776  and  also  in  1777,  the  year  preced- 
ing that  of  both  Voltaire's  and  Rousseau's  death, 
Madame  Roland  was  intently  studying  the  latter's 
works,  and  continually  alluding  to  him  in  her  cor- 
respondence, especially  to  the  "Discours  "  and  the 
"  Contrat  Social,"  —  "a  book  to  be  studied,  not 
read,"  she  remarked,  "  because,  although  very 
clearly  written,  it  is  too  full  of  matter  for  the 
connection  of  the  whole  to  be  seized  without 
effort." 


MANON'S  SUITORS.  53 

The  whole  of  Rousseau's  works  were  given 
her  by  the  "  Republican  Philosopher,"  who  had 
fallen  in  love  with  her.  In  touching  on  this 
Chapter  of  Suitors,  we  must  retrace  our  steps 
and  begin  with  those  who  had  appeared  on  the 
scene  before  the  mother's  death.  For  Manon  did 
not  belong  to  that  class  of  shabbily  treated  young 
women  who  can  at  most  boast  of  but  one  or  two 
strings  to  their  bow,  being  in  that,  as  in  some 
other  respects,  so  favored  by  nature  as  to  be  be- 
set by  a  legion  of  wooers.  These  importunate 
creatures  became  the  plague  of  her  life,  and  she 
at  last  dreaded  the  addresses  of  a  new  aspirant  as 
much  as  some  young  ladies  rejoice  in  receiving 
them.  It  is  curious  enough  to  mark  how  these 
pretenders  to  Mademoiselle  Phlipon's  hand  rise  in 
the  social  scale  in  proportion  as  her  personality 
gradually  triumphs  over  her  surroundings.  The 
reader  may  remember  that  Spanish  Colossus  who 
taught  her  the  guitar,  and  who  in  turn  conceived 
the  wild  idea  of  asking  this  girl  of  fourteen  or 
fifteen  in  marriage  of  her  father.  In  his  foot- 
steps followed  another  of  her  teachers,  the  wiz- 
ened little  dancing-master,  who,  for  the  second 
time  a  widower,  had  had  his  huge  wen  operated 
upon  before  proceeding  to  the  more  delicate  oper- 
ation of  proposing  for  her  in  marriage. 

M.  Phlipon,  who  prided  himself  not  a  little  on 
his  personal  appearance,  enjoyed  the  joke  heartily, 


54  MADAME  ROLAND. 

and  without  precisely  telling  his  daughter  of  these 
curious  wooers,  threw  out  so  many  sly  hints, 
that  she  could  not  help  knowing  all  about  it.  As 
has  been  said,  Manon  used  to  go  shopping  with 
her  mother,  or  occasionally  with  the  maid,  and  in 
her  dealings  with  a  neighboring  butcher  was  al- 
ways particularly  well  served.  To  her  surprise, 
this  identical  butcher,  whom  she  used  to  see  on 
week-days  cutting  up  joints,  was  always  meeting 
them  on  their  Sunday  walks  in  a  handsome  suit 
of  black  and  lace  ruffles.  Moreover,  when  she 
fell  ill  once,  he  sent  round  every  morning  to  in- 
quire after  her  health,  enforcing  the  message  with 
the  choicest  titbits  of  his  shop.  Thereat  her 
father  smiled,  joked,  rubbed  his  hands,  and  one 
day  gravely  introduced  her  to  a  certain  Made- 
moiselle Michon,  who  had  come  ceremoniously 
in  the  butcher's  name  (a  rich  widower)  to  ask  her 
hand.  Her  father  having  maliciously  let  her  in 
for  this  interview,  she  found  means  to  evade  giv- 
ing an  offensive  refusal,  by  saying  that  she  was  so 
fond  of  her  present  way  of  life  as  to  be  resolved 
not  to  change  her  state  for  years  to  come.  This 
reply  did  not  precisely  suit  the  views  of  her  father, 
who  exclaimed,  "  Why,  here  is  an  answer,  forsooth, 
to  frighten  away  all  future  lovers  !  " 

Presently,  however,  there  came  an  offer  from  a 
man  her  parents  deemed  not  at  all  unsuited  to 
her.     This  was  in  1771,  when  she  was  seventeen  ; 


MANON'S  SUITORS.  55 

and  it  is  curious  to  note  how,  before  she  had  really 
thought  much  about  marriage,  she  mechanically 
viewed  it  after  the  conventional  French  fashion. 
This  man  —  a  jeweller,  who  had  already  lost  two 
wives,  and  who  had  a  good  business,  an  excellent 
reputation,  and  an  amiable  disposition  —  seems 
chiefly  to  have  desired  the  connection  because 
Manon's  unusually  serious  turn  of  mind  led  him 
to  think  she  would  make  a  capital  housewife  and 
accountant.  She  herself  seemed  quite  without 
illusions !  In  writing  to  Sophie  she  reveals  her 
inmost  thoughts,  and  one  can  see  that  at  this 
youthful  age  she  felt  almost  as  much  bound  to 
abide  by  her  parents'  choice  as  did  Portia  by  the 
fateful  caskets.  Begging  her  friend's  assistance 
on  this  "  terrible  occasion,"  she  says  she  has  had 
one  interview  with  the  gentleman,  without  being 
able  to  recall  precisely  "  whether  he  was  dark  or 
fair,"  though  it  seems  to  her  that  "he  was  of  a  sal- 
low complexion,  with  a  long  thin  face,  much  pitted 
with  the  small-pox  ;  hesitating  of  speech,  and  with, 
nothing  in  his  manners  to  attract  or  repel." 

This  affair,  to  her  infinite  relief,  came  to  noth- 
ing; but  one  suit  had  no  sooner  been  refused 
than  a  fresh  wooer  straightway  started  up,  chiefly 
recruited  from  the  tradesmen  of  "the  quarter." 
These  were  by  no  means  love-suits,  in  our  Eng- 
lish sense,  but  business-like  proposals,  made  by 
the  relatives  of  would-be  husbands  to  the  lady's 


56  MADAME  ROLAND. 

relatives,  who  first  of  all  went  to  work  in  a  round- 
about way,  inquiring  into  the  respective  fortunes, 
character,  disposition  of  the  pair.  To  be  so  per- 
sistently sought  after  for  years,  not  only  shows 
that  Marie  Phlipon  must  have  been  considered 
the  beauty  of  her  quarter,  but  that  her  character 
and  manners  inspired  the  highest  regard  ;  not  to 
forget  that,  being  an  only  child,  she  was  supposed 
to  be  an  heiress  in  her  small  way. 

Another  batch  of  suitors  having  been  sent 
about  their  business,  Gatien  Phlipon  began  to 
show  signs  of  restiveness.  He  could  sympathize 
with  his  daughter's  aversion  to  ally  herself  with  a 
pastry-cook  ;  but  when  it  came  to  her  refusing  a 
thriving  woollen-draper  or  goldsmith,  he  lost  all 
patience.  He  began  to  rate  her  soundly  for  her 
dislike  to  shop-keepers  ;  and  Louis  Blanc,  as  we 
have  before  hinted,  seems  inclined  to  accuse  her 
of  wanting  in  love  for  the  people  because  she 
scouted  the  proposed  matches.  But  what  are  the 
reasons  she  gave  her  father  for  this  dislike  ? 
Why,  antipathy  for  those  very  bourgeois  failings 
of  which  this  eminent  historian  accuses  her.  She 
will  not  marry  a  rich  tradesman  because,  forsooth, 
she  has  observed  that  the  only  way  of  making 
money  in  trade  is  by  selling  dear  what  has  been 
bought  cheap,  "  by  overcharging  customers  and 
beating  down  the  poor  workman.  I  should  nevei 
be  able  to  descend  to  such  practices,"  she  told 


MANON' S  SUITORS.  $7 

Phlipon,  "  nor  to  respect  a  man  who  made  them 
his  daily  occupations." 

The  next  suitor  that  presented  himself  belonged 
to  a  different  class ;  he  was  a  promising  young 
doctor  from  Provence,  ambitious  of  rising  in  his 
profession,  and  looking  out  for  a  wife  with  some 
fortune.  The  preliminaries  of  this  match  had 
literally  been  all  settled  before  Manon  knew  a 
word  of  the  matter.  As  it  is  not  customary  in 
France  for  young  men  to  visit  at  a  house  where 
there  are  young  ladies,  the  girl  was  one  day  taken 
by  her  parents,  as  if  casually — a  shower  of  rain 
being  the  ostensible  excuse — to.  the  house  of 
a  certain  lady,  a  distant  relative,  where  they 
were  hospitably  entertained.  In  the  mean  while 
Dr.  Gardanne  also  dropped  in,  as  if  by  acci- 
dent. "The  first  impression  was  not  enchant- 
ing," Manon  wrote  to  her  friend.  "A  man, 
above  middle  height,  in  wig  and  doctor's  gown, 
dark,  coarse-featured,  with  small  eyes,  glittering 
under  bushy  black  eyebrows,  and  an  imperious 
air.  However,  he  grew  animated  in  conversa- 
tion, did  ample  justice  to  the  sweetmeats,"  which 
he  cracked  in  talking,  and,  with  a  gallantry  smack- 
ing of  the  school,  said  to  the  young  lady  that  he 
was  very  fond  of  sweets,  —  to  which  the  latter, 
not  without  a  smile  and  a  blush,  replied  timidly, 
"  that  men  were  accused  of  loving  sweet  things, 
because  in  dealing  with  them  one  required  great 


58  MADAME  ROLAND. 

sweetness."  The  cunning  doctor  appeared  en- 
chanted with  the  epigram.  Her  father  would 
willingly  have  given  them  his  benediction  on  the 
spot.     This  politeness  enraged  his  daughter. 

Nothing  was  definitely  settled  on  that  occa- 
sion ;  but  Madame  Phlipon,  tender  and  pensive, 
began  seriously  expatiating  on  the  advantages  of 
this  match  ;  and  Manon  herself  did  not  see  any 
valid  reason  for  refusal,  save  for  the  objection 
that  as  she  had  had  no  opportunities  of  knowing, 
she  could  not  well  love,  this  doctor.  This  was, 
of  course,  not  taken  into  account,  and  a  formal 
offer  being  presently  made,  a  second  interview 
took  place.  Without  being  prepossessed  in  his 
favor,  Manon  told  her  friend  that  there  was  a 
good  deal  to  be  said  in  favor  of  this  match. 
Some  of  her  incidental  remarks  afford  curious 
glimpses  into  the  manners  of  the  time.  "  M.  Gar- 
danne,"  she  says,  "  does  not  wish  for  one  of  those 
women  who  in  marrying  expect  a  lady's-maid,  a 
second  footman,  a  private  sitting-room,  —  one  of 
those  women,  in  short,  who  pass  the  night  at 
parties  and  the  day  at  cards,  as  is  the  custom 
with  doctors'  wives."  These  seem  great  expecta- 
tions for  the  wife  of  a  doctor  of  but  eight  years' 
practice.  Dr.  Gardanne  having  already  a  well- 
furnished  house,  it  seemed  as  if  the  marriage 
must  be  concluded  instantly ;  and  mother  and 
daughter  went   to   pass  a  week  in  the  country, 


MANON'S  SUITORS.  59 

during  which  the  necessary  formalities  were  to  be 
arranged. 

Manon's  dowry  was  to  be,  on  this  occasion, 
eight  hundred  and  eighty-three  pounds,  —  worth 
treble  the  amount  that  it  would  be  now.  Mean- 
while, M.  Phlipon,  busy,  inquisitive,  elated,  lost 
no  time  in  making  all  possible  inquiries  concern- 
ing his  future  son-in-law  ;  wrote  off  to  the  doc- 
tor's friends  in  Provence,  made  nice  inquiries  of 
the  tradesmen  he  dealt  with,  and  of  his  servants, 
and  having  discovered  that  he  had  quarrelled 
with  an  influential  person  in  his  province,  began 
lecturing  him  with  the  airs  of  the  prospective 
father-in-law.  The  choleric  doctor,  having  al- 
ready heard  of  some  of  these  proceedings,  was  so 
much  ruffled  in  temper  as  to  show  his  discontent 
to  the  relative  who  had  first  been  instrumental 
in  bringing  the  parties  together.  Whereupon 
this  lady,  no  less  fiery,  considered  her  cousin 
slighted,  and  the  affair  was  broken  off.  On  the 
ladies'  return  from  the  country,  nothing  further 
was  said  of  the  suitor ;  Manon  felt  intensely  re- 
lieved, the  mother  not  sorry,  and  the  father  too 
crestfallen  to  say  a  word. 

In  fact,  he  had  now  given  up  pressing  Manon 
to  get  married,  and  as  time  went  on  was  less 
anxious  about  the  matter  than  his  wife.  He 
began  enjoying  the  sense  of  his  importance  in 
having  so  admired  a  daughter.     He  now  always 


60  MADAME  ROLAND. 

showed  her  the  various  written  demands  for  her 
hand  that  reached  him,  and  his  daughter  would 
dictate  the  answer,  couched  in  the  most  judicious 
terms,  in  the  name  of  her  papa. 

In  the  mean  while  Madame  Phlipon  had  died  ; 
Marie  was  keeping  house  for  her  father,  when 
there  called  on  her  a  young  man,  whom  she  had 
known  some  years  ago,  and  who  on  seeing  her 
asked,  much  moved,  whether  some  one  were  ill. 
"  Some  one  is  dead,"  was  her  scarce  audible  reply. 
She  then  told  what  had  happened,  and  read  his 
sympathy  in  his  silent  emotion. 

This  young  man  was  a  certain  Pahin  de  La- 
blancherie,  who  two  years  later,  in  1778,  acquired 
some  reputation  by  starting,  in  concert  with  Bris- 
sot,  a  "  General  Correspondence  on  the  Arts  and 
Sciences ;  or,  News  of  the  Republic  of  Letters." 
This  ambitious  scheme,  intended  as  an  interna- 
tional association  of  scientific  and  literary  men, 
looks  like  a  germ  of  our  British  Associations  and 
Social  Science  Congresses  ;  and  the  man  who 
planned  them  must  have  had  some  far-reaching 
ideas  and  good  intentions,  if  nothing  more.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  he  was  the  first  suitor  of  modern 
views  who  crossed  Madame  Roland's  path,  and 
the  first  who  in  any  way  touched  her  feelings. 

Pie  was  also  a  man  of  literary  proclivities,  and 
in  1776  published  a  work  entitled,  "  Extracts 
from  a  Journal  of  my  Travels  ;  or,  the  History 


MANON'S  SUITORS.  6l 

of  a  Young  Man :  a  Lesson  to  Fathers  and 
Mothers."  There  is  frequent  mention  of  this 
book  in  Manon's  correspondence,  and  an  inter- 
esting review  of  it  by  her,  written  for  her  friend's 
behalf.  She  speaks  of  it  with  the  impartiality  of 
a  critic,  though  admitting  that  she  is  afraid  to 
mention  it  to  others  for  fear  they  should  suspect 
her  interest  in  the  author.  It  was  a  dull,  moral- 
izing work,  yet  containing  shocking  descriptions 
of  the  licentiousness  prevalent  in  the  seminaries 
and  colleges  of  the  time  ;  and  it  may  have  in- 
spired Manon  with  some  of  that  recoil  from  "  the 
innate  ferocity"  of  man  which  is  a  noticeable 
feature  in  her. 

Lablancherie  had  proposed  for  Manon  some 
years  before  ;  but  considering  that  he  was  only 
two-and-twenty,  penniless,  and  studying  for  the 
Bar,  with  no  definite  prospects  of  advancement, 
the  father  considered  such  a  marriage  out  of  the 
question,  and  would  not  even  hear  of  a  correspond- 
ence, for  which  L.  had  begged  before  returning 
to  Orleans.  That  Manon  regarded  his  suit  with 
very  different  eyes  from  those  of  her  other  wooers 
is  very  clear  from  her  letters  to  her  confidante 
Sophie.  She  could  see  nothing  so  wild  in  the 
young  man's  proposition  to  her  father,  —  to  let 
them  marry  at  once,  live  in  his  house  for  a  few 
years,  and,  by  means  of  her  dowry,  assist  him 
to  purchase  a  place  in   the  magistracy,  and  so 


62  MADAME  ROLAND. 

start  them  for  life.  She  nevertheless  acquiesced 
in  M.  Phlipon's  decision  ;  and  now,  after  the  lapse 
of  a  few  years,  behold !  Lablancherie  made  his 
appearance  again,  at  a  time  when  her  mother's 
death  had  made  a  sad  vacuity  in  her  heart,  and 
when  the  interesting  pallor  of  her  lover  seemed 
to  indicate  that  he  had  suffered  much  on  her 
account. 

There  is  no  doubt  that  her  feelings  were  touched 
at  last,  —  that  she  was  in  love,  even  if  that  love 
partook  more  of  a  fancy  than  a  passion,  was  more 
of  the  head  than  the  heart.  If  she  had  not  been 
in  love,  would  she  have  thought  of  saying  that, 
though  he  was  not  a  Rousseau,  u  his  moral  senti- 
ments were  beautiful  and  well  expressed"?  If 
she  had  been  more  in  love,  would  she  have  laid 
stress  on  his  "  infinite  historical  allusions  and 
quotations  from  authors  without  end"?  At  any 
rate,  such  as  it  was,  it  had  some  of  the  effects  by 
which  we  can  tell  the  highest  kind  of  love, — it 
kindled  a  very  passion  of  perfection  in  her  in 
order  to  make  herself  worthy  of  this  exalted 
being,  whom  she  had  fashioned  in  the  image  of 
her  ideal ;  and  whenever  she  did  a  generous 
action  (and  she  did  many),  she  naively  laid  it  to 
the  account  of  Lablancherie.  She  did  not  at  this 
time  contemplate  marriage.  It  sufficed  her  that 
she  was  beloved  of  this  "  virtuous  "  young  man, 
that  they  saw  each  other  occasionally,  that  they 


MANOWS  SUITORS.  63 

could  think  of  each  other  in  absence.  This  state 
of  affairs  by  no  means  suited  the  father's  views. 
After  his  wife's  death  he  had  considered  it  in- 
cumbent on  himself  to  be  always  present  when 
his  daughter  saw  visitors  ;  but  he  very  soon 
grew  restive,  ill-tempered,  finally  intimating  to 
Lablancherie  to  discontinue  his  visits. 

Here  was  a  sad  complication,  a  dire  perplexity ! 
Filial  obedience  in  conflict  with  pity  for  an  un- 
happy man,  dying  apparently  for  love  of  her !  — 
duty  and  affection  pulling  her  heart  in  contrary 
directions  !  While  suffering  less  on  her  own  ac- 
count than  on  that  of  her  lover,  she  is  equally 
loath  to  speak  and  to  keep  silence;  till  at  last, 
driven  to  desperation  at  the  thought  of  what 
Lablancherie  must  endure,  she  bursts  out  to  her 
friend,  in  January,  1776,  being  then  in  her  twenty- 
second  year : — 

"  Sophie,  Sophie,  my  friend  !  I  am  passing  through  the 
most  violent  crisis  ;  I  am  in  the  most  cruel  conflict  with 
myself.  I  have  only  strength  enough  left  to  throw  myself 
into  the  arms  of  friendship.  In  another  moment  the  letter 
I  enclose  would  have  been  despatched  to  its  address.  Only 
by  a  great  effort  have  I  restrained  myself.  I  wish  to  delude 
myself  by  sending  it  to  you.  My  soul  longs  to  unburden 
itself,  —  I  think  it  necessary  for  the  life  of  him  I  love ;  but 
then  prejudice  —  custom  —  my  father!  .  .  .  O  God  !  howl 
suffer ! " 

The  letter  alluded  to  in  the  above  lines  is  one 
which  Manon,  after  much  inward  trepidation,  had 


64  MADAME  ROLAND. 

at  last  penned  to  her  lover,  in  which  she  tells  him 
that,  bound  by  her  father's  wish,  she  is  obliged  to 
give  up  her  intercourse  with  him,  and  that  he 
must  henceforth  try  to  forget  her. 

The  letter  was  sent  by  Sophie,  and  the  result 
was  that  Lablancherie  discontinued  his  visits  en- 
tirely. Manon  repeatedly  expresses  admiration 
for  a  lover  who  could  thus  respect  her  wishes  and 
act  up  to  the  highest  principles  ;  but  whether  she 
really  liked  it,  those  must  decide  who  understand 
a  woman's  heart. 

Months  thus  elapsed,  and  the  lovers  saw  and 
heard  nothing  of  each  other.  Preoccupied  though 
Manon  was,  she  used  to  enjoy  walking  out  on  a 
Sunday  afternoon  with  her  father ;  and  on  one 
such  occasion  she  diverted  herself  in  the  Tuile- 
ries  Gardens  by  inwardly  criticising  every  person 
they  passed,  for  she  was,  as  she  sometimes  ac- 
cused herself,  something  of  a  quiz.  Among  a 
group  of  ladies  she  caught  sight  of  one,  however, 
who  struck  her  as  so  pretty  and  charming  that 
she  could  find  no  fault  with  her.  Suddenly  she 
saw  her  father  bowing  to  some  one,  and,  behold ! 
by  the  side  of  this  very  pretty  lady  she  caught 
sight  of  Lablancherie,  who,  while  meeting  her 
smile  of  surprise,  from  deep  respect  cast  down 
his  eyes.  She  was  pleased  at  this  unexpected 
meeting,  —  or  professed  herself  pleased.  But  a 
month   afterwards,    on    walking   in    the    Luxem- 


MANON'S  SUITORS.  65 

bourg  with  a  lady  friend,  she  again  encountered 
him ;  and  this  time  the  grave,  philosophic,  love- 
sick Lablancherie  was  actually  seen  walking  with 
an  ostrich  feather  in  his  hat!1 

"My  poor  heart,"  she  writes  to  Sophie,  "has  been 
greatly  perplexed  and  fatigued  of  late  in  consequence  of 
a  number  of  insignificant  little  events.  Imagine  that  I 
have  met  D.  L — b — e  ;  that  he  wore  a  feather  in  his  hat. 
Ah !  you  cannot  imagine  how  this  cursed  little  feather  has 
tormented  me.  I  have  turned  and  twisted  in  every  direc- 
tion to  reconcile  so  futile  an  ornament  with  that  high  phil- 
osophy, that  rigid  simplicity  of  taste,  that  noble  way  of 
thinking,  which  have  endeared  him  to  me.  I  can  only  see 
excuses,  and  am  feeling  cruelly  what  great  significance 
little  things  acquire  when  they  make  us  suspect  the  nature 
of  a  beloved  object." 

Was  it  really  the  little  feather  that  was  in  fault, 
or  was  it  a  look,  an  air,  a  something  that  like  a 
flash  sometimes  reveals  unsuspected  qualities  in 
an  intimately-known  person  ?  At  any  rate,  it 
proved  "the  little  rift  within  the  lute."  Manon 
learned  that  day  from  her  companion  that  La- 
blancherie had  lately  proposed  to  a  rich,  lovely 
young  lady  ;  was  known  to  have  done  so  in  sev- 
eral other  cases  of  heiresses,  and  —  oh,  horror !  — 
went  by  the  name  of  "  the  lover  of  the  eleven 
thousand  virgins."  How  much  to  believe  of  this 
gossip  the  girl  hardly  knew  ;  but  it  shattered  the 
ideal  she  had  formed  of  him.     It  had  been  so 

1  Then  the  height  of  fashion. 
5 


66  MADAME  ROLAND. 

much  more  an  ideal  she  had  loved  than  a  man, 
that  she  did  not  suffer  very  deeply.  She  had 
lost  faith  in  Lablancherie,  and  with  her  faith  all 
desire  to  marry  him ;  but  she  declared  that 
she  would  only  marry  the  man  who  was  what 
Lablancherie  appeared  to  be. 

The  remarkable  girl,  however,  was  gradually 
attracting  round  her  men  of  literary  distinction 
and  high  social  position,  only  too  proud  to  come 
and  chat  with  her.  Among  these  was  a  Mon- 
sieur de  Sainte  Lette,  a  deputy  from  the  Colony 
of  Pondicherry  to  the  French  Court.  This  gen- 
tleman, who  had  travelled  over  all  the  world,  and 
who  had  amassed  a  vast  fund  of  knowledge  and 
observation,  came  to  the  Phlipons  with  a  letter  of 
introduction  from  a  certain  Demontchery,  a  cap- 
tain of  sepoys  in  India,  who  before  leaving  Paris 
had  also  unsuccessfully  proposed  for  the  fair 
Manon.  On  returning  to  France  after  some 
years,  he  intended  renewing  his  proposal,  but 
learned  that  the  lady  had  become  Roland's  wife 
within  the  fortnight.  The  society  of  Sainte 
Lette,  a  man  of  about  sixty,  but  full  of  fire  and 
intellect,  a  friend  of  Helvetius  and  an  enthusias- 
tic humanitarian,  was  a  rare  intellectual  treat  to 
Manon.  In  his  vivacious,  glowing  manner  he 
satisfied  her  craving  for  knowledge  by  enlarging 
her  ideas  of  society  and  government.  Some- 
times, about  this  time,  Manon  would  preside  over 


MANON'S  SUITORS.  67 

little  dinners  given  to  four  or  five  friends,  when 
the  sociable,  jovial  M.  Phlipon,  flattered  at  seeing 
such  distinguished  guests  at  his  table,  would 
only  show  himself  from  his  most  amiable  side. 
The  conversational  powers  of  the  future  Madame 
Roland  were  now  for  the  first  time  called  into 
play. 

Among  several  highly-cultivated  men  whose  ac- 
quaintance she  made  through  Sainte  Lette,  there 
was  a  M.  de  Sevelinges, — a  gentleman  who  had 
recently  lost  a  beloved  wife,  and  was  plunged  in 
grief  when  first  Manon  saw  him.  He  was  of  an 
ancient  family,  of  restricted  means,  and  lived  at 
Soissons,  where  he  held  some  financial  post,  giv- 
ing the  rest  of  his  time  to  the  study  of  literature. 
Whereas  Sainte  Lette's  nature  seemed  "com- 
pacted of  fire  and  sulphur,"  his  Pylades  was  of  a 
gentle  and  melancholy  temperament,  and  of  the 
most  refined  sensibility.  He  too,  little  by  little, 
came  under  Manon's  irresistible  charm.  After 
corresponding  with  her  for  a  considerable  time, 
there  crept  a  something  tender  and  insinuating 
into  his  letters  ;  he  seemed  to  find  his  solitude 
irksome,  and  to  feel  grieved  at  her  position.  He 
often  dilated  on  the  charms  of  a  thoughtful  com- 
panionship, finally  writing  a  letter  which,  though 
somewhat  ambiguously  couched,  had  every  ap- 
pearance of  a  proposal  of  marriage. 

The  idea  of  marrying  M.  de   Sevelinges  was 


68  MADAME   ROLAND. 

not  repugnant  to  Manon,  and  though  she  was  not 
the  least  in  love  with  the  gentleman,  she  may 
possibly  have  considered  herself  disillusioned  in 
that  respect,  while  in  reality  she  was  very  heart- 
whole,  as  Sainte  Lette  had  once  said  to  her,  — 
so  heart-whole  that  she  now  formed  a  plan,  which, 
however  startling,  reveals  the  simplicity  and  eleva- 
tion of  her  nature.  No  sooner  had  she  received 
Sevelinges'  letter  than  she  grasped  the  whole  sit- 
uation of  affairs.  Here  was  a  highly-refined,  cul- 
tivated man,  tender-hearted,  intellectual,  learned, 
subtle,  a  man  with  whom  she  could  have  that 
community  of  ideas  which  was  to  her  the  sine 
qud  11011  of  married  life,  —  a  man  who  led  a  lonely, 
depressed,  isolated  existence,  while  she  at  home 
felt  more  and  more  in  her  father's  way,  between 
whom  and  herself  the  breach  had  been  gradually 
widening.  Trouble,  discord,  ruin,  were  threaten- 
ing her  domestic  horizon,  while  the  pleasing  pros- 
pect of  a  peaceful  home  beckoned  to  her  from 
Soissons.  On  the  other  hand,  her  high  sense  of 
justice  warned  her  that  M.  de  Sevelinges'  means 
were  extremely  limited,  his  income  not  exceed- 
ing four  hundred  pounds  per  annum.  His  means 
such  as  they  were,  partly  proceeding  from  his  first 
wife's  fortune,  seemed  naturally  to  belong  to  his 
sons,  —  two  young  men  in  the  army,  who  would 
have  just  cause  to  complain,  she  considered,  if 
by  the  advent  of  a  young  family  they  should  be 


MA  NO  ATS  SUITORS.  69 

still  further  stinted  in  their  expenses.  Had  she 
herself  possessed  a  more  ample  dowry,  her  way 
would  have  been  clear  enough ;  but  under  the  cir- 
cumstances she  could  not  reconcile  such  a  mar- 
riage with  her  conscience.  But  an  idea  struck 
her,  and  to  her  faithful  confidante  Sophie  she  con- 
fesses that  she  thinks  De  Sevelinges  must  have 
been  cherishing  a  similar  notion,  —  that  of  gain- 
ing a  sister  and  companion,  under  a  title  which 
the  custom  of  society  rendered  indispensable. 
This  vision  of  passing  her  life  by  the  side  of  a 
man  to  whom  she  would  minister  with  an  abso- 
lutely unselfish  devotion  quite  enchanted  Manon's 
benevolent  heart.  In  her  protestations  of  being 
free  from  all  passion,  one  cannot  help  feeling  the 
vibrations  of  a  nature  that  had  never  yet  sounded 
its  own  depths,  —  that  was  ready  to  pledge  itself 
to,  it  knew  not  what,  in  the  very  ecstasy  of  self- 
sacrifice. 

But  the  girl's  dream  was  not  destined  to  be 
carried  into  practice.  Either  M.  de  Sevelinges 
did  not  understand  her,  or  she  did  not  understand 
him  ;  and  they  both  expressed  themselves  in  such 
very  guarded,  delicate,  and  ambiguous  terms,  that 
they  wrote  apparently  quite  at  cross-purposes. 
For,  as  these  wavering  seniors  frequently  do,  he 
seems  to  have  backed  out  of  the  negotiation  ;  and 
Manon's  last  word  to  Sophie  was,  that  she  hardly 


70  MADAME  ROLAND. 

knew  whether  to  be  offended  or  not,  but  ended 
with  a  hearty  laugh. 

To  enumerate  the  many  other  suitors  who  came 
forward  one  after  another  to  propose  for  Made- 
moiselle Phlipon  would  sound  too  like  the  fairy 
tale  of  the  proud  king's  daughter,  who  used  to  have 
the  claimants  to  her  hand  marshalled  before  her 
in  a  row,  and  refuse  them  in  turn  by  pronouncing 
one  to  be  as  thin  as  a  pole,  another  as  fat  as  a 
barrel,  and  a  third  bearded  like  a  goat,  till  her 
enraged  sire  declared  that  the  first  vagrant  who 
came  begging  alms  at  his  gates  should  have  her, 
whether  or  no.  M.  Phlipon  at  one  moment  be- 
haved not  unlike  this  incensed  monarch.  Seeing 
that  a  "  martial  young  Apollo,"  a  thriving  Greffier 
des  Batiments,  and  a  certain  M.  Coquin, — a 
round-faced,  beaming  young  man,  "a  good  paste 
of  a  husband,"  young  and  wealthy,  if  not  wise, — 
had  all  been  rejected  in  turn,  he  was  actually  for 
marrying  her  to  a  man  who,  as  she  was  entering 
her  door,  met  her  casually,  and  asked  whether 
she  could  direct  him  to  a  certain  house,  and  in 
the  course  of  a  day  or  two  proposed  for  her  to  M. 
Phlipon,  through  the  intervention  of  friends.  "  My 
father,"  she  writes,  "did  not  find  it  so  absurd; 
what  more  shall  I  say  ?  With  a  little  good-will 
on  my  part,  I  might  have  found  myself  become  a 
vendor  of  lemonade,  and  been  gloriously  installed 


MANON'S  SUITORS.  71 

in  a  cafe.  .  .  .  Oh,"  she  adds,  after  a  few  more 
comic  remarks,  "  was  it  worth  while  to  have  such 
a  variety  of  paths  to  choose  from  to  keep  obsti- 
nately on  the  solitary  road  of  celibacy  ?  " 

Single  she  was  not  destined  to  remain  long, 
however  ;  but  before  we  follow  up  the  story  of  her 
acquaintance  with  Roland,  let  us  cast  a  glance  at 
the  kind  of  life  she  now  led  with  her  father. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FLIGHT   TO  THE   CONVENT,   AND    MARRIAGE. 

While  all  sorts  and  conditions  of  men  were  thus 
courting  the  hand  of  the  magnificent  Marie  Phlipon, 
was  her  life  so  sweet  a  one  as  to  make  her  averse 
to  exchange  it  for  a  home  of  her  own  ?  On  the 
contrary  ;  the  serenity  of  her  studious  days  be- 
came more  and  more  clouded  by  anxieties,  cares, 
and  fears  for  the  future.  Her  father,  the  vain- 
glorious, fickle  Parisian,  had  loved  his  daughter 
as  long  as  their  interests  seemed  identical ;  but 
they  no  sooner  began  to  clash  than  he  was  ready 
to  sacrifice  her  future  to  his  caprice.  In  spite  of 
Manon's  efforts  to  make  the  house  pleasant  to 
him,  and  to  while  away  his  evenings  by  taking  a 
hand  at  cards,  he  found  these  pleasures  tame  to 
those  that  awaited  him  abroad.  He  began  absent- 
ing himself  more  and  more,  formed  connections 
at  coffee-houses,  lost  his  business  habits,  con- 
tracted a  passion  for  gaming,  and  began  by  spend- 
ing not  only  his  own  savings,  but  the  money  which 
according  to  French  law  belonged  of  right  to 
his  daughter.     Manon,  with  her  shrewd  common- 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.    73 

sense,  saw  that  as  her  father's  custom  fell  off  he 
tried  to  retrieve  himself  by  gambling ;  she  sus- 
pected, besides,  that  he  was  squandering  his  money 
on  an  illicit  connection.  To  add  to  her  perplexi- 
ties, she  feared  that  she  herself  was  the  innocent 
cause  of  his  demoralization,  and  that  but  for  her 
he  might  marry  again,  and  once  more  take  to 
orderly  habits. 

The  event  was  not  one  to  be  desired  for  her 
own  sake,  for  she  was  mistress  of  the  house  and 
herself  in  a  way  quite  unusual  for  French  girls  ; 
but  the  hope  of  rescuing  her  father  from  profli- 
gacy, improvidence,  and  an  indigent  old  age  de- 
cided her.  There  is  something  not  a  little  comic 
in  this  reversal  of  the  mutual  relations  of  parent 
and  child,  —  the  wise  daughter  pondering  how 
she  may  suitably  marry  the  flighty  papa  of  fifty- 
five,  and  not  daring  to  let  him  guess  her  plans, 
lest  he  should  set  himself  tooth  and  nail  against 
them.  A  suitable  woman  was  discovered,  too, 
and  the  parties  seemed  mutually  willing ;  but  the 
lady  being  of  an  undecided  turn  of  mind,  nothing 
came  of  the  affair. 

Her  uncles,  more  especially  her  great-uncle  and 
godfather  who  was  devoted  to  her,  found  it  neces- 
sary to  insist  on  M.  Phlipon's  taking  an  inventory 
of  his  property,  previous  to  letting  his  daughter 
have  the  share  which  rightfully  belonged  to  her ; 
but   they  did  it  in  such  a  bungling  and  dilatory 


74  MADAME   ROLAND. 

fashion  that  months  and  years  elapsed  before  any 
effective  steps  were  taken,  and  in  the  mean  while 
he  had  not  only  frittered  away  his  capital,  but 
come  to  regard  Manon  as  the  cause  of  these  trou- 
bles,—  so  that  sometimes  he  hardly  came  near 
his  house,  or,  if  he  did,  avoided  speaking  to  her. 
Her  life,  however,  was  an  exceedingly  busy  one, 
for  while  persistently  carrying  on  her  studies  she 
was  a  most  punctilious  housekeeper,  looked  after 
her  father's  diminishing  custom  in  his  absence, 
was  frequently  engaged  on  some  charitable  errand 
or  other,  and  at  one  time,  in  order  to  procure  a 
holiday  for  a  hard-worked  cousin,  she  offered  to 
serve  behind  the  counter  of  the  husband's  shop  in 
her  absence.  Behold,  then,  the  woman  who  was 
to  play  so  momentous  a  part  in  one  of  the  most 
momentous  periods  of  history  trudging  backwards 
and  forwards  between  her  house  and  the  Rue 
Montmartre,  in  the  dusty  August  weather,  dili- 
gently selling  spectacles  and  watch-glasses,  with 
a  head  stuffed  full  of  Socrates  and  Plato. 

Her  position  was  no  doubt  a  unique  one ;  for 
while  sometimes  relegated  to  the  servants'  hall 
when  she  went  visiting  with  her  relatives,  she 
was  at  others  the  friend  and  correspondent  of 
men  of  high  rank  and  abilities.  She  took  it  all 
very  philosophically,  and  attached  herself  to  right 
action,  she  says,  "  with  the  zeal  and  desperation 
of  a  man  who  in  a  shipwreck  clings  with  all  his 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.    7$ 

might  to  the  only  plank  that  is  left  him."  But 
what  wrung  a  cry  from  that  strong  soul  was 
neither  unkindness,  nor  loneliness,  nor  impend- 
ing destitution  ;  it  was  the  sense  of  a  great  force 
wasted,  of  potential  powers  doomed  to  perish  un- 
used.    Once  only  she  bursts  forth  with, — 

"  In  truth  I  am  not  a  little  annoyed  at  being  a  woman. 
I  ought  either  to  have  had  another  sex,  another  soul,  or 
another  country.  1  ought  to  have  been  a  Spartan  or  a 
Roman  woman,  or  at  least  a  Frenchman.  As  the  latter  I 
should  have  chosen  the  Republic  of  Letters  for  my  coun- 
try, or  one  of  those  States  where  one  may  dare  be  a  man 
and  obey  the  law  only.  My  displeasure  looks  very  insane  ; 
but  I  feel  as  if  riveted  to  a  manner  of  existence  not  prop- 
erly my  own.  I  am  like  those  animals  transplanted  to  our 
menageries  from  the  torrid  soil  of  Africa,  who,  intended  to 
develop  in  a  tropical  climate,  are  shut  up  in  a  narrow  cage 
hardly  able  to  contain  them.  My  mind  and  heart  are  ham- 
pered on  all  sides  by  the  obstacles  of  custom  and  the  chains 
of  prejudice,  and  I  exhaust  my  strength  in  vainly  shak- 
ing my  fetters.  To  what  use  can  I  turn  my  enthusiasm 
for  the  public  good,  when  I  can  do  absolutely  nothing  to 
serve  it  ?  " 

Yes  ;  in  spite  of  stoicism,  philosophy,  and  a 
wise  reflection  on  the  noble  functions  of  wife- 
hood and  motherhood,  was  it  possible  for  such  a 
nature  as  that  not  to  rebel  against  the  tyranny  of 
petticoats  ?  One  cannot  but  be  surprised  that 
with  such  a  sense  of  native  power,  predilection 
for  literary  pursuits,  and  facility  of  expression, 
Manon  should  not  have  turned  her  pen  to  prac- 


76  MADAME  ROLAND. 

tical  account.  Michelet  somewhat  captiously 
makes  it  a  reproach,  both  to  Madame  Roland 
and  to  Robespierre,  that  they  were  born  scrib- 
blers, and  were  unable  to  see,  think,  feel  anything 
without  straightway  pulling  out  their  ■  tablets." 
It  was  so,  no  doubt  ;  and  from  a  very  tender 
age  Madame  Roland  had  begun,  in  her  letters  to 
Sophie,  chronicling  every  incident  in  her  inner 
or  outer  life.  On  first  opening  the  two  bulky  vol- 
umes of  this  correspondence  (carefully  edited  by 
M.  Dauban),  written  by  a  young  girl  leading  an 
uneventful  life  amid  seemingly  commonplace  sur- 
roundings, the  prospect  of  their  perusal  is  rather 
appalling.  But  this  strong  nature,  through  which 
life  continually  rushes  with  a  torrent  of  thoughts, 
sensations,  and  feelings,  invests  the  most  trivial 
incidents  with  fresh  dramatic  interest.  A  Sun- 
day afternoon  walk  to  the  Jardin  du  Roi  becomes 
an  idyl  ;  midnight  vigils,  passed  in  the  study  of 
some  ancient  philosopher,  grow  astir  with  action; 
girlish  friendship  is  invested  with  the  glamour  of 
romance.  The  more  one  reads,  the  more  fully 
does  this  powerful  nature  unfold  itself ;  and  such 
as  she  is  at  fourteen  shall  we  find  her  still  at 
thirty-eight. 

Besides  her  letters  to  Sophie  and  Henriette 
Cannet,  often  complete  little  essays  in  themselves, 
Marie  Phlipon  wrote  a  number  of  detached  pieces, 
entitled,  Mcs  Loisiis  ('  Leisure   Hours").     Most 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.   77 

of  these  have  been  published  in  her  collected 
works.  They  are  short  prose  essays,  of  a  re- 
flective and  elegiac  character,  —  "  On  the  Soul," 
"  On  Melancholy,"  "  On  Friendship,"  "  On  the 
Close  of  Day,"  "  Reverie  in  the  Wood  of  Vin- 
cennes,"  "On  the  Multiplication  of  Men  being  the 
Cause  of  Despotism,  and  of  the  Corruption  of 
Morals,"  and  so  forth.  They  possess  less  bio- 
graphical and  even  literary  interest  than  the  let- 
ters, then  her  favorite  style  of  composition. 

But  a  young  lady  who  was  capable  of  express- 
ing herself  clearly  and  concisely  on  some  of  the 
questions  which  have  exercised  the  powers  of 
the  most  robust  thinkers,  questions  which  lay  at 
the  very  root  of  the  approaching  crisis,  should 
have  been  in  no  perplexity  as  to  her  future  vo- 
cation. Nature  had  endowed  her  with  a  great 
gift  ;  the  trammels  of  opinion  forbade  her  to 
make  use  of  it.  She  rattled  her  chains,  and 
yet  had  no  heart  to  break  them  asunder.  It  was 
only  when  by  an  unforeseen  concurrence  of  cir- 
cumstances fate  had  cast  her  in  the  very  focus 
of  action,  when  by  her  daily  contact  with  men  at 
the  head  of  affairs  she  gradually  learned  to  mea- 
sure her  powers  with  theirs,  that  she  came  fully 
to  realize  the  extent  of  her  own  abilities.  But, 
indeed,  at  this  time  she  held  avowed  authorship 
in  horror  ;  and  on  being  urged  by  a  friend  to  de- 
vote herself  seriously  to  composition,  her  outburst 


?8  MADAME  ROLAND. 

was  that  she  would  sooner  cut  off  her  right  hand 
than  turn  authoress.  '*  If  a  woman  writes  a  good 
book,"  she  said,  "a  male  writer  invariably  gets  the 
credit  of  it ;  if  a  bad  one,  she  incurs  the  full  ridi- 
cule of  failure."  She  did  not  perceive  that  she 
was  one  of  the  few  women  who  could  have  vindi- 
cated the  claims  of  her  sex  ;  and  in  this  respect 
she  showed  less  originality  than  Mary  Wollstone- 
craft  and  Madame  de  Stael,  her  juniors  by  a  de- 
cade or  so.  In  later  life  she  considerably  modified 
her  views,  and  bitterly  regretted  having  no  time 
left  to  write,  as,  "if  she  could  not  be  the  Tacitus, 
she  might,  perhaps,  have  aspired  to  be  the  Mrs. 
Macaulay  of  the  French  Revolution." 

At  the  same  time  we  must  bear  in  mind  that  it 
was  not  the  literary  or  aesthetic,  but  the  moral 
side  of  life  which  possessed  the  greatest  attraction 
for  Madame  Roland.  In  her  judgment  the  life  of 
woman  as  wife  and  mother  always  appeared  the 
highest  and  best.  She  perceived  that  every  con- 
centrated effort  of  the  imagination  tends  to  iso- 
late the  individual,  and  to  disturb  that  equilibrium 
of  the  faculties  which  essentially  constitutes  the 
harmony  of  life.  She  considered  no  function 
more  important  than  that  of  the  woman  of  fine 
nature  and  cultivated  faculties  regulating  a  house- 
hold or  estate,  with  many  people  depending  on 
her  care  and  management,  bringing  up  children 
in   the   consciousness  that  in    them   her   soul  is 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.   79 

moulding  the  future  of  the  race.  Because,  in  the 
exercise  of  these  duties  the  most  diversified  at- 
tributes are  called  into  play,  love  itself  being  its 
guiding  principle.  This  was  Manon's  ideal  of  life 
for  a  woman,  and  it  is  practically  that  of  the  states- 
man and  ruler  in  miniature. 

But  the  very  strength  of  her  convictions  as  to 
the  duties  of  wifehood  and  motherhood  rendered 
marriage  more  difficult  to  her.  Her  decided  views 
as  to  the  bringing  up  of  children  made  her  very 
critical  as  to  the  partner  who  wished  to  share  this 
responsibility.  About  all  this  she  spoke  in  the 
frankest  way  to  her  friends.  It  seemed,  there- 
fore, that  she  would  soon  be  reduced  to  teach- 
ing or  needle-work,  that  last  resource  of  destitute 
women.  Her  father's  dishonest  waste  had  now 
reduced  the  savings  of  thirty  years'  labor  to  about 
five  hundred  and  eighty  pounds.  Worse  than 
this,  M.  Phlipon  had  lost  all  his  custom,  and, 
what  was  a  greater  affliction  to  his  daughter,  his 
honesty  into  the  bargain.  "  I  don't  know  how  it 
is,"  she  tells  Sophie,  "  but  every  time  my  father 
gives  me  a  fresh  cause  of  annoyance,  I  feel  an 
impulse  of  tenderness  towards  him,  which  seems 
to  be  there  on  purpose  to  enhance  my  suffering." 
Her  friend,  in  trying  to  comfort  her,  remarks  that 
the  faults  of  our  children  are  more  humiliating  to 
us  than  those  of  our  parents  ;  but  added  a  remark 
calculated  to  cut  Manon  to  the  quick,  that  "  from 


80  MADAME  ROLAND. 

our  birth  we  are  destined  to  wear  the  moral  liver- 
ies of  our  parents  !  " 

Poor  Manon's  best  anodyne  was  an  increase  of 
benevolent  activity.  She  was  always  at  this  time 
engaged  in  some  active  work  of  charity  or  other ; 
now  visiting  some  destitute  woman,  or  spending 
her  dress-money  on  some  deeply-indebted  father 
of  a  family.  She  was  now  approaching  the  time 
of  her  majority,  fixed  at  twenty-five  by  the  French 
law.  Even  her  dilatory  relatives  felt  it  necessary 
to  take  some  decisive  steps  to  bring  about  a  divi 
sion  of  property  in  favor  of  the  daughter.  But 
these  steps,  by  humiliating  M.  Phlipon,  only  ag- 
gravated the  position  of  affairs.  In  consequence 
of  this  he  became  so  irritated  that  at  last,  in  June, 
1779,  ne  bade  his  daughter  leave  his  house  once 
and  forever. 

This  violent  threat  was  not  a  little  calculated 
to  upset  Manon's  equanimity.  Practical  and 
sagacious  as  she  was,  she  could  not  help  seeing 
the  insurmountable  obstacles  which  confronted  a 
young  unmarried  woman  the  moment  she  should 
be  cut  adrift  from  her  family.  For  such  an  one 
there  seemed  to  be  no  inch  of  standing  room  on 
her  native  soil,  and  she  must  either  be  prepared 
to  bow  her  neck  beneath  the  yoke,  or  seek 
shelter  in  the  tomb-like  isolation  of  conventual 
life.  English  women,  even  at  that  time,  were 
already  acting  with  considerably  more  independ- 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.   8l 

ence  ;  and  the  brave  and  beautiful  Mary  Woll- 
stonecraft,  not  many  years  from  the  present  date, 
settled  as  a  female  author  in  London,  "  to  be  the 
first  of  a  new  genus."  But  Madame  Roland's 
heroism  did  not  consist  in  braving  public  opinion; 
on  the  contrary,  she  considered  a  certain  confor- 
mity to  it  as  part  of  the  duty  which  the  in- 
dividual owed  to  the  social  compact,  —  duty  to 
which  was,  from  first  to  last,  the  motive  spring 
of  her  actions. 

A  reconciliation  having  been  effected  between 
M.  Phlipon  and  his  daughter,  the  latter  wrote  to 
Sophie:  — 

"  The  cares  and  worries  of  housekeeping  are  not  repug- 
nant to  me.  With  a  lively  taste  for  the  acquisition  of 
knowledge,  I  yet  feel  that  I  could  pass  the  remainder  of 
my  life  without  opening  a  book  or  being  bored  by  not  doing 
so.  Let  only  the  home  I  live  in  be  embellished  by  order, 
peace,  and  harmony  ;  let  me  only  feel  that  I  have  helped 
towards  making  it  so,  and  be  able  to  tell  myself  at  the  close 
of  each  day  that  it  has  been  usefully  spent  for  the  good  of 
a  few,  —  and  I  shall  value  existence  and  daily  bless  the 
rising  of  the  sun." 

With  her  high  conception  of  the  responsibilities, 
of  marriage,  it  cannot  surprise  us  that  Marie 
Phlipon  could  not  make  up  her  mind  to  accept 
one  of  the  many  wooers  who  had  asked  for  her 
hand,  in  spite  of  her  forlorn  position,  feeling,  as 
she  did,  a  stumbling-block  in  her  father's  way. 
Yet  outlet,  save  in  a  makeshift  marriage,  there 

6 


82  MADAME  ROLAND. 

seemed  none  for  this  grandly-organized  creature. 
At  first,  as  we  have  seen,  she  had  been  ready  to 
take  the  conventional  middle-class  French  view 
of  marriage.  Provided  that  positions  were  suit- 
able, parents  agreed,  the  man  not  too  repulsive,  it 
seemed  as  if,  in  spite  of  inward  misgivings,  she 
must  subordinate  her  own  wishes  in  the  matter  to 
what  was  expected  of  her.  But  the  more  she 
reflected  on  the  marriage  state,  the  more  clearly 
she  came  to  see  that  no  one  had  a  right  to  de- 
mand of  her  that  she  should  enter  into  so  close 
and  life-long  a  union  with  any  person  for  whom 
she  did  not  feel  love,  or  at  least  entertain  the 
highest  regard  ;  and  after  a  while  she  was  con- 
vinced that  her  duty  lay,  not  in  contracting  such 
a  marriage,  but  in  opposing  it, —  and  then  she 
stood  firm  as  a  rock,  determined  to  do  the  hum- 
blest work,  the  most  menial  drudgery,  to  take 
service  if  need  be,  rather  than  sell  herself  in  mar- 
riage for  a  mess  of  pottage.  At  the  same  time, 
in  spite  of  her  admiration  of  the  "  Nouvelle 
HeloYse,"  which  had  made  her  realize  the  ex- 
quisiteness  of  domestic  joys,  she  was  not  haunted 
by  visions  of  romantic  love,  and  had  but  few 
illusions  in  regard  to  men.  According  to  the 
severe  Roman  ideal,  she  regarded  marriage  as  a 
union  to  be  entered  into  from  duty  more  than 
passion,  and  from  a  high  devotion  to  the  family, 
because  on   the  family  depended  the  welfare  of 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.    83 

the  State.  But  nothing  seemed  more  improbable 
than  that  in  her  circle  of  acquaintances  she 
should  ever  have  a  suitor  to  meet  so  stern  an 
ideal. 

One  day,  however,  there  presented  himself, 
with  a  letter  of  introduction  from  the  faithful 
Amiens  friend,  a  tall,  meagre,  rigorous  gentleman, 
of  a  sallow  complexion,  already  worn-looking,  and 
scant  of  hair  about  the  temples,  but  with  the  un- 
mistakable stamp  of  character  about  him.  He 
had  the  air  and  manners  of  a  scholar,  was  care- 
less in  his  dress,  and  spoke  in  an  unmodulated 
voice  (Manon  was  peculiarly  susceptible  to  the 
sound  of  voices),  with  chopped-up  sentences,  as 
if  he  were  scant  of  breath.  But  as  he  warmed 
up  in  conversation  a  benevolent  smile  lit  up  his 
countenance,  and  the  range  and  thoroughness  of 
his  acquirements  lent  a  keen  interest  to  his  so- 
ciety. This  was  Roland  de  la  Platiere,  of  whom 
Lavater,  who  saw  him  some  years  afterwards  in 
Zurich,  exclaimed  warmly  :  "  You  reconcile  me  to 
French  travellers."  Inspector  of  Manufactures 
at  Amiens,  he  had  often  heard  the  Cannets  speak 
of  their  remarkable  friend  at  Paris,  had  seen  her 
portrait  hanging  up  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
at  last  volunteered  to  play  the  postman  to  this 
phoenix  of  girls.  On  the  other  hand,  Roland's 
praises  had  frequently  been  sung  by  Sophie,  who 
said  in  introducing  him: — 


84  MADAME  ROLAND. 

"  You  will  receive  this  letter  by  the  hand  of  the  philoso- 
pher of  whom  I  have  spoken  to  you  already,  —  M.  Roland, 
an  enlightened  man  of  antique  manners,  without  reproach, 
except  for  his  passion  for  the  ancients,  his  contempt  of  his 
age,  and  his  too  high  estimation  of  his  own  virtue." 

The  first  interview  took  place  as  early  as  Jan- 
uary, 1776,  and  Manon  was  impressed  by  the 
dignity,  uprightness,  and  pride  which  stamped 
his  individuality,  while  his  erudition  inspired  her 
with  admiration.  But  the  dogmatic  narrowness 
and  pedantry  of  his  nature  did  not  escape  her. 
He  awoke  in  her  neither  the  tenderness  which 
she  had  felt  for  Lablancherie,  nor  the  intellectual 
enthusiasm  Sainte  Lette  had  done.  As  compared 
with  the  latter,  she  told  her  friend  some  weeks 
later,  "  M.  Roland  is  a  mere  savant!'  Never- 
theless, she  was  not  altogether  indifferent,  and  a 
certain  feminine  preoccupation  peeps  out  from 
the  following  lines  sent  to  Amiens  immediately 
after  this  visit :  — 

"  Our  conversation  touched  on  a  thousand  interesting 
topics.  I  stammered  a  little,  without  being  too  shy  ;  I  re- 
ceived him  unceremoniously  in  my  baigneuse  and  white 
camisole,  in  that  tiigligi  which  you  used  to  like  in  the 
summer  mornings.  [This  was  in  January.]  He  may  have 
seen  from  my  manner  that  I  was  charmed  by  his  visit,  and 
has  asked  my  leave  to  come  again,  which  was  willingly 
granted." 

The  leave  was  not  neglected.  M.  Roland  pre- 
sented himself  again  before  the  fair  stammerer 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.  85 

within  the  month.  This  time  she  was  quite  con- 
vinced that  she  had  made  the  most  unfavorable 
of  impressions  on  the  critical  Roland.  Of  all  the 
disenchanting  accidents  that  beauty  is  liable  to, 
she  was  then  suffering  from  a  violent  cold  in  the 
head,  which,  next  to  sea-sickness,  has  perhaps  the 
most  sobering  effect  on  the  raptures  of  love.  To 
add  to  her  discomfort,  her  father,  who  never  left 
her  on  such  occasions  if  he  could  help  it,  and  to 
whom  these  philosophical  talks  were  caviare,  fid- 
geted about  the  room,  till  she  felt  so  teased  that 
she  had  not  even  sense  enough  left  to  put  any 
questions  to  M.  Roland.  Every  one  knows  that 
the  great  art  of  conversation  is  to  ask  people  the 
right  kind  of  questions.  Only  give  a  man  the 
opportunity  of  bringing  out  his  pet  theories  and 
favorite  stories,  and  he  will  pronounce  you  the  most 
admirable  talker  he  ever  met.  Manon,  who  pos- 
sessed the  talent  of  listening,  was  no  doubt  mis- 
tress of  the  art  of  drawing  people  out ;  but  whether 
she  failed  on  this  occasion  or  not,  Roland  not 
only  gave  free  vent  to  his  opinions,  but  he  startled 
and  shocked  her  by  his  contemptuous  mention  of 
some  of  her  favorite  authors. 

On  the  whole  this  visit  left  an  uncomfortable 
impression  behind  it,  and  Marie  was  convinced 
that  it  would  be  the  last.  Nevertheless,  M.  Roland 
repeated  his  calls,  undismayed  by  disfiguring  colds 
and  fuming  fathers,  —  possibly,  with  the  oblivious- 


86  MADAME  ROLAND. 

ness  of  men  to  such  sublunary  trifles,  he  had 
remained  in  blissful  ignorance  of  them.  In  May, 
1776,  Manon  wrote  to  her  friend  that  on  this 
occasion  she  has  learned  to  appreciate  M.  Roland 
better.  "  I  have  been  charmed  by  the  solidity  of 
his  judgment,  the  interest  of  his  conversation, 
and  the  variety  of  his  acquirements." 

In  the  summer  of  this  year  Roland  left  France 
for  Italy,  where  he  remained  until  1778.  He  cor- 
responded with  Mademoiselle  Phlipon  during  his 
absence,  and  these  letters,  afterwards  corrected 
and  revised  by  both,  were  published  under  the 
title  u  Letters  written  from  Switzerland,  Italy, 
Sicily,  and  Malta  in  1776,  1777,  1778."  This 
book  of  Italian  travel  is,  in  Michelet's  estimation, 
the  best  work  on  that  subject  produced  in  France 
during  the  eighteenth  century. 

The  manuscripts  of  which  Roland  had  made 
his  young  friend  the  depositary,  and  which  con- 
sisted in  descriptions  of  travel,  sketches  of  pro- 
jected works,  and  personal  anecdotes,  gave  her  a 
better  opportunity  of  becoming  acquainted  with 
his  mind  than  a  number  of  personal  interviews 
would  have  done.  They  increased  her  regard  for 
Roland,  and  on  his  return  from  Italy  she  found  a 
genuine  friend  in  him.  Their  relations  towards 
each  other  were  apparently  purely  those  of  friend- 
ship ;  and  the  fact  of  Manon  classing  Roland  with 
Sainte  Lette  and  a  certain  Boismorel,  two  seniors 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.   87 

whom  she  venerated  for  their  wisdom  and  knowl- 
edge, shows  that  the  idea  of  looking  at  him  in 
any  other  light  was  far  from  her  thoughts.  Yet 
the  staid  philosopher  could  not  come  thus  fre- 
quently in  contact  with  the  glowing  nature  of  this 
magnificent  girl  without  experiencing  a  stronger 
emotion  than  friendship.  His  feelings  insensibly 
changed,  and  in  the  beginning  of  1779  ne  made 
Manon  an  offer  of  his  hand.  She,  who  respected 
and  honored  him  more  than  any  man  she  had 
met,  felt  highly  gratified  by  this  mark  of  affection. 
The  prospect  it  opened  of  passing  her  life  with 
one  guided  by  the  same  lofty  notions  of  duty  and 
patriotism  as  herself,  had  always  been  the  limit  of 
her  aspirations.  True,  this  woman  of  five-and- 
twenty,  in  the  full  energy  of  life,  would  have  been 
capable  of  a  very  different  feeling  from  that  in- 
spired in  her  by  the  grave,  middle-aged  Roland, 
more  than  twenty  years  her  senior;  nevertheless, 
it  was  a  marriage  in  harmony  with  her  precon- 
ceived views,  and  the  consideration  which  pre- 
vented her  from  accepting  him  at  first  was  not 
one  of  sentiment  but  of  pride. 

The  French  custom  of  the  woman  bringing  a 
dowry  to  her  husband  is  so  general,  that  to  a 
proud  nature,  such  as  Manon's,  the  idea  of  en- 
tering the  marriage  state  empty-handed,  owing 
everything  to  the  man  she  wedded,  was  almost 
intolerable.     Shrinking  from  the  idea  of  marrying 


88  MADAME  ROLAND. 

into  a  family  which  would  consider  M.  Roland's 
choice  as  one  beneath  his  name  and  expectations, 
she  put  all  these  objections  before  her  wooer,  with 
the  cool  impartiality  of  a  third  party,  and  advised 
him  to  desist  from  his  suit.  To  advise  a  man  to 
desist  usually  has  the  opposite  effect  of  making 
him  persist  the  more  obstinately.  This  happened 
in  Roland's  case,  rather  more  self-willed  and  obsti- 
nate than  the  generality  of  men.  He  no  doubt 
told  her  that  he  did  not  wish  to  wed  her  dowry 
or  her  father,  but  herself  alone  ;  and  at  last  he 
obtained  her  consent  formally  to  write  to  her 
father.  But  M.  Phlipon's  conduct  on  this  occa- 
sion showed  that  whatever  good-humor  and  geni- 
ality might  have  originally  been  his,  had  now 
turned  into  the  most  unmitigated  scoundrelism. 
Not  content  with  beggaring  his  daughter,  his 
baseless  spite  now  begrudged  her  this  prospect  of 
a  settled  home:  probably  the  idea  of  finding  a 
censor  in  this  virtuous  son-in-law  galled  his  vanity. 
At  any  rate,  after  having  vainly  tried  to  tease 
her  and  flatter  her  and  scold  her  into  taking  a 
husband,  he  now  wrote  a  rude  and  humiliating 
refusal  to  Roland,  of  which  he  only  informed  his 
daughter  after  the  event. 

This  last  drop  filled  her  cup  to  overflowing. 
She  considered  that  her  father  might  possibly 
pay  more  attention  to  his  business  if  left  entirely 
to   his  own  devices,  and  that  it  would  be  more 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.    89 

becoming  in  herself  to  make  some  kind  of  liveli- 
hood than  drift  into  helpless  destitution  along 
with  him.  No  sooner  had  she  come  to  this  reso- 
lution than  she  informed  Roland  that,  fearful  of 
becoming  the  source  of  fresh  humiliations  to  him, 
she  begged  him  to  desist  from  his  suit.  Thus, 
without  an  open  rupture,  she  at  the  age  of  five- 
and-twenty  left  the  home  which  had  been  such 
a  scene  of  " carking  cares"  since  her  mother's 
death. 

With  her  vigorous  health  and  robust  frame 
Manon  could  laugh  at  privations,  and  there  would 
have  been  nothing  very  painful  in  her  lot,  but 
that  all  the  avenues  to  the  nobler  kinds  of  work 
were  closed  to  her,  and  that  with  her  incomparable 
powers  there  yet  seemed  nothing  for  her  to  do 
but,  if  possible,  to  teach  "  the  use  of  the  globes  " 
and  a  little  feeble  music  to  half  a  dozen  pupils,  — 
provided  always  that  she  could  get  them  in  her 
rather  anomalous  position.  Young  and  unpro- 
tected, there  seemed  no  course  open  but  refuge 
in  a  nunnery.  To  a  nunnery  she  went,  therefore, 
—  the  same  where  she  had  passed  such  moments 
of  religious  ecstasy  in  her  childhood,  but  now  in 
how  different  a  mood  and  mental  attitude  !  Per- 
mitted to  become  an  inmate  without  sharing  in 
the  conventual  life,  she,  for  twenty  <fcus  a  year, 
hired  a  small  apartment,  which  was  perched  under 
the  roof  like  a  swallow's  nest. 


go  MADAME  ROLAND. 

In  the  beginning  of  November,  1779,  sne  t0°k 
possession  of  this  dwelling-place  ;  and  her  pov- 
erty was  so  great  that  some  potatoes,  a  dish  of 
rice,  or  a  few  haricot  beans,  prepared  by  herself 
with  a  little  butter  and  a  pinch  of  salt,  were  her 
sole  fare.  Insufficiently  nourished,  poorly  clad, 
and  solitary,  she  neither  lost  her  courage  nor  her 
gayety,  and  curled  up  on  a  high  school-desk  to 
look  out  over  the  snow-covered  roofs  of  Paris, 
she  from  her  lofty  perch  could  see  the  people 
moving  like  midges  through  the  white,  narrow 
thoroughfares,  or  at  times  would  seem  very  near 
to  the  beatified  calm  when  the  great,  still  winter 
moon  flooded  her  little  garret  with  a  solemn 
splendor.  The  narrow  street  in  which  she  lived, 
the  Rue  Neuve  Saint  fitienne,  was  canonized  by 
the  memories  of  such  men  as  Pascal,  Rollin,  and 
Bernardin  de  St.  Pierre  ;  and  here,  with  the  clear 
chant  of  the  young  novices  and  the  loud-resound- 
ing organ-peals  sometimes  floating  up  to  her,  she 
passed  the  short  bleak  days  and  long  cold  nights, 
"armed  with  her  pen,  surrounded  by  scattered 
papers,  in  the  company  of  a  Jean  Jacques  and  a 
grand  Xenophon,"  and  knew  such  thoughts  as 
are  only  given  to  strong  souls  fearlessly  breasting 
adversity. 

Only  twice  a  week  did  she  emerge  from  the 
convent  walls, — once  to  call  on  her  father,  whose 
linen  she  took  away  to  mend,  and  once  to  pay  a 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.   91 

visit  to  her  aged  relatives.  For  months  she 
never  varied  the  monotonous  tenor  of  her  life, 
but  trusted  that  in  the  course  of  time  she  would 
get  some  pupils  and  be  able  to  reconcile  the  nuns 
to  such  an  unusual  proceeding.  In  the  mean 
time  she  tried  to  fit  herself  more  thoroughly  for 
this  task.  Her  friends  in  Amiens  entreated  her 
in  vain  to  come  and  make  her  home  with  them. 
They  had  advanced  her  a  little  sum,  sufficient  to 
enable  her  to  move  at  all,  and  she  was  delighted 
to  owe  this  to  their  friendship.  But,  impercepti- 
bly, her  confidences  to  Sophie  and  Henriette  had 
grown  less  expansive.  She  who  had  been  wont 
to  descant  so  freely  on  everybody  and  everything 
was  grown  somewhat  reticent,  and.  Sophie  felt 
and  fretted  under  the  change,  in  spite  of  Manon's 
assurances  of  her  unaltered  feelings. 

Her  tongue  was  tied  in  regard  to  Roland. 
She  intuitively  felt  that  his  proud  nature  would 
resent  her  enlarging  too  freely  on  him  in  her  let- 
ters. She  was  in  honor  bound  to  keep  the  secret 
of  his  offer  and  rejection.  For  months  now  he 
had  made  no  further  advances,  though  he  knew 
of  her  retirement  to  the  convent,  and  continued 
writing  to  her.  A  very  ardent  lover,  guessing, 
one  would  imagine,  that  the  lady  he  wished  to 
marry  had  left  her  father's  house  on  his  account, 
would  without  a  moment's  hesitation  have  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  convent  gates,  and,  similar 


92  MADAME  ROLAND. 

to  the  knight  in  the  ancient  ballad,  have  lustily 
knocked  thereat  till  his  love  had  perforce  come 
out  to  him.  Not  so  M.  Roland.  No  doubt  he 
would  have  considered  it  undignified  to  do  any- 
thing in  a  hurry,  or  from  an  impulse  of  passion. 
He  had  waited  four  years  before  he  made  up  his 
mind  to  ask  Manon  to  marry  him,  and  now  he 
coolly  waited  six  or  seven  months  more  to  recon- 
sider his  resolution.  Her  letter  had,  perhaps,  too 
ably  put  before  him  all  the  disadvantages  of  such 
a  connection.  The  fatal  cogency  of  Manon's 
arguments  seems  to  have  had  a  sobering  effect 
on  her  suitors  generally.  But  certainly  Roland 
would  have  been  more  lover-like  if,  scattering  all 
arguments  to  the  winds,  he  had  at  once  pressed 
his  suit  more  hotly  than  before.  The  six  months' 
delay  did  him  an  irreparable  mischief.  Madame 
Roland  confesses  "  that  it  stripped  every  illusion 
from  such  sentiments  as  she  had  entertained  for 
him."  He  came  at  last,  however,  conversed  with 
the  recluse  behind  the  grating  of  the  convent, 
saw  her  looking  more  blooming  and  brilliant  than 
ever  in  her  sober  garb,  and  felt  all  his  old  feel- 
ings reviving  with  increased  force  at  sight  of  her. 
On  the  27th  of  January,  1780,  Manon  wrote 
informing  her  friends  of  her  engagement.  Her 
letter,  devoid  of  any  vibration  of  passion,  breathes 
a  spirit  of  calm  content.  "  A  succession  of  sweet 
and  manifold  duties  will  henceforth  fill  my  heart 


FLIGHT  TO  CONVENT,  AND  MARRIAGE.   93 

and  every  moment  of  my  life  ;  I  shall  no  longer 
be  this  isolated  creature,  lamenting  her  useless- 
ness  and  striving  to  prevent  the  ills  of  a  morbid 
sensitiveness  by  incessant  activity."  In  her  Me- 
moirs she  says :  — 

"  If  marriage,  as  I  considered,  were  a  stringent  tie,  an 
association  where  the  woman  undertakes  to  make  the  hap- 
piness of  two  people,  was  it  not  possible  that  I  should 
practise  my  courage  and  abilities  in  this  honorable  task 
rather  than  in  the  solitude  wherein  I  lived  ?" 

These  reflections  were,  no  doubt,  wise  and  sen- 
sible enough,  but,  concerning  this  marriage,  one 
might  say,  in  the  words  of  Lord  Beaconsfield  : 
"  It  was  not  in  the  nature  of  things  that  she 
could  experience  those  feelings  which  still  echo 
in  the  heights  of  Meillerie,  and  compared  with 
which  all  the  glittering  accidents  of  fortune  sink 
into  insignificance."  Not  for  any  glittering  ac- 
cidents of  fortune,  certainly,  did  Marie-Jeanne 
Phlipon  wed  the  austere  Roland,  but  from  a 
sense  of  devoting  herself  to  the  happiness  of  an 
honorable  man,  and  of  making  his  life  sweeter  to 
him.  She  was  a  Julie  making  an  offering  of  her 
life's  happiness  to  Volmar,  and  yet  —  she  had 
never  loved ! 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE   CLOS   DE   LA   PLATIERE. — JOURNEYS    TO 
ENGLAND    AND    SWITZERLAND. 

The  family  into  which  Gatien  Phlipon's  daughter 
married  on  February  4,  1780,  came  of  a  good  old 
stock, —  many  of  whose  members  had  had  titles 
that  lapsed  with  their  lifetime, — but  which  had 
gradually  become  impoverished  by  extravagance. 
Roland,  the  youngest  of  five  brothers,  had  been 
destined  for  the  Church,  but  feeling  no  vocation 
for  it  he  fled  from  his  father's  house,  and  was 
fortunate  enough  to  obtain  a  situation  in  the 
office  of  one  of  his  relatives,  who  was  superin- 
tendent of  a  factory  at  Rouen.  In  this  house, 
which  possessed  many  ramifications,  Roland  be- 
came deeply  versed  in  the  different  branches  of 
commerce,  in  manufactures,  and  in  the  principles 
of  political  economy.  Scrupulously  conscientious, 
painstaking,  and  observant,  he  steadily  rose  in 
his  office,  and  having  been  made  inspector  of 
manufactures,  part  of  his  time  was  spent  in  for- 
eign travel,  to  study  the  improvements  of  industry 
in  the  interest  of  his  Government. 


THE  CLOS  DE  LA   PLATI&RE.  95 

Although  from  youth  upwards  Roland  had  been 
chiefly  mixed  up  with  practical  life,  he  was  a 
student  by  nature,  of  retiring  habits,  reserved 
manners,  and  a  reflective  turn  of  mind.  Yet  his 
philosophy  was  not  incompatible  with  much  irri- 
tability of  temper,  owing  in  part  to  derangement 
of  the  digestive  functions.  Monsieur  and  Madame 
Roland  passed  the  first  year  of  their  marriage  in 
Paris,  where  the  latter's  time  was  quite  engrossed 
by  participation  in  her  husband's  work,  and  the 
little  cares  and  vexations  incident  to  a  fresh  kind 
of  housekeeping,  with  slender  means  in  furnished 
lodgings.  She  had  less  leisure  than  in  her  maiden 
days  for  inditing  those  long  epistles  to  Sophie, 
which  now  gradually  shrank,  till  they  ceased 
entirely  on  her  husband's  return  to  Amiens. 
Madame  Roland  had  looked  forward  with  much 
delight  to  the  society  of  Sophie  and  Henriette 
when  she  should  be  in  the  same  town  with  them  ; 
but  morbidly  jealous,  at  this  the  beginning  of 
their  union,  of  any  affection  not  given  to  him, 
Roland  exacted  a  promise  that  she  would  see  as 
little  as  possible  of  these  dear  friends  of  hers. 
She  resigned  herself  to  it,  and  in  fact  hardly  ever 
left  her  husband's  side.  Living  in  the  same  room, 
studying  the  same  books,  sitting  at  the  same  ta- 
ble, she  wrote  to  his  dictation,  copied  and  revised 
his  manuscripts,  and  corrected  his  proofs.  This 
life  of  constant  application  was  only  varied  by  an 


96  MADAME  ROLAND. 

occasional  walk  out  of  the  gates  of  Amiens.  The 
great  discrepancy  of  age  between  Roland  and  his 
wife  gave  the  former  an  undue  authority  in  their 
relations,  and  for  several  years  after  their  mar- 
riage Madame  Roland  never  ventured  to  contra- 
dict him  for  fear  of  seeing  a  frown  clouding  his 
brow.  But  owing  to  this  habit  of  doing  every- 
thing in  company  with  his  wife,  Roland  became 
at  last  incapable  of  doing  anything  without  her, 
so  that  her  genius  insensibly  gained  the  influence 
due  to  it  by  nature. 

"  By  dint,"  says  she  in  her  Memoirs,  "  of  occupying  my- 
self with  the  happiness  of  the  man  with  whom  I  was  asso- 
ciated, I  felt  that  something  was  wanting  to  my  own.  I 
have  never  for  a  moment  ceased  to  see  in  my  husband  one 
of  the  most  estimable  persons  that  exist ;  but  I  often  felt 
that  similarity  was  wanting  between  us,  —  that  the  ascen- 
dancy of  a  domineering  temper,  united  to  that  of  twenty 
years  more  of  age,  made  one  of  those  superiorities  too 
much." 

They  remained  four  years  at  Amiens,  and  it 
was  there  that  Madame  Roland's  only  child,  Eu- 
dora,  was  born,  in  October,  178 1.  Contrary  to 
the  universal  French  custom  of  sending  children 
out  to  nurse,  she  had  always  considered  that 
mothers  should  perform  the  duty  of  nursing  their 
own  offspring ;  and  now,  in  spite  of  violent  suffer- 
ing, she  persisted  in  doing  so.  During  her  stay 
at  Amiens,  her  dear  friend  Sophie  — whom  Henri- 
ette,  however,  seems  gradually  to  have  eclipsed  in 


THE   CLOS  DE  LA   PLATI&RE.  97 

Madame  Roland's  affection  —  married  a  certain 
Chevalier  de  Gomiecourt.  Henriette,  although 
of  a  warmer  and  more  impulsive  temperament, 
eventually  united  herself  to  a  man  of  seventy-five, 
and  in  the  last  days  of  Madame  Roland's  life 
evinced  a  heroism  of  friendship  which  places  her 
on  a  level  with  her  famous  friend. 

In  1784  Madame  Roland,  it  seems,  went  to 
Paris  for  the  purpose  of  obtaining  lettres  dy  ano- 
blissemeiit, — the  grant  of  permanent,  indefeasible, 
and  hereditary  nobility,  various  members  of  Ro- 
land's family  having  held  offices  which  made  each 
of  them  personally  a  noble  without  the  title  being 
hereditary.  She  failed  in  this,  for  Roland's  stiff- 
necked  persistence  and  rigorousness  of  principle 
had  made  him  very  unpopular  with  his  superiors  ; 
but  it  was  afterwards  made  one  of  the  accusations 
against  him  by  the  partisans  of  the  Mountain. 
Madame  Roland  succeeded  however,  later,  in 
obtaining  her  husband's  transfer  to  the  inspector- 
ship of  Lyons. 

Before  settling  in  the  Beaujolais,  —  where  Ro- 
land's family  still  possessed  a  remnant  of  their 
property  in  the  Clos  de  la  Platiere,  —  Roland  de- 
cided on  taking  his  young  wife  on  a  trip  to  Eng- 
land. He  himself,  an  accomplished  traveller, 
would  now  enjoy  giving  her  the  benefit  of  his 
large  experience. 

England  was  at  that  time  the  political  lode-star 
7 


98  MADAME  ROLAND. 

of  almost  every  Frenchman  with  any  share  of 
public  spirit  in  him.  Our  Constitution,  our  rep- 
resentative system,  our  liberty  of  the  Press,  our 
home  life,  were  all  studied  with  admiring  envy  by 
a  nation  which,  through  long-continued  misgov- 
ernment,  seemed  almost  on  the  verge  of  political 
dissolution.  Towards  England  were  turned  the 
eyes  of  statesmen,  ministers,  pamphleteers,  jour- 
nalists. To  England  it  was  that  political  writers, 
in  imminent  peril  of  the  Bastile,  —  such  men 
as  Brissot  and  Linguet,  —  came  for  safety  and 
shelter.  To  England,  too,  came  Marat,  where, 
in  1774,  he  wrote  and  published  his  "Chains  of 
Slavery."  Rousseau  alone  had  not  shared  his 
countrymen's  enthusiasm  for  this  country,  and 
under  the  trappings  of  liberty  he  beheld  and 
pointed  out  horrible  sores  and  social  wrongs 
masked  by  a  semblance  of  national  prosperity. 

Madame  Roland  was  eager  to  see  this  native 
land  of  liberty.  In  her  girlhood  she  had  studied 
De  Lolme's  "  History  of  the  English  Constitution," 
and  the  book  had  made  a  lasting  impression 
on  her  mind.  She  came  prepared  to  admire 
everything,  from  the  eloquence  of  the  House  of 
Commons  to  the  powderless  yellow  curls  of  cherub- 
cheeked  children  in  the  parks. 

On  the  first  of  July,  1784,  the  Rolands  landed 
at  Dover,  and  her  first  remarks  on  the  country 
are  such  as  would  not  occur  to  women  in  gen- 


JOURNEY  TO  ENGLAND.  99 

eral.      In  the  Journal  written  on  this  occasion 

she  says :  — 

"  The  soil  of  the  environs  perfectly  resembles  that  of 
the  Boulonnois  ;  light,  poor  lands  over  a  bed  of  sand  and 
chalk ;  the  country  hilly,  entirely  broken  into  sinuosities, 
which  diversify  its  surface  in  a  striking  manner ;  it  is  pre- 
cisely the  same  soil  on  either  side  the  water.  But  a 
traveller  may  soon  observe  which  is  the  best  understood 
and  most  improved  culture.  A  small  breed  of  sheep  were 
grazing  on  the  downs  ;  they  are  quite  different  from  ours  ; 
the  legs  short,  the  body  compact,  a  great  deal  of  wool,  even 
underneath  them,  the  head  crowned  with  a  ruff,  from  which 
it  seems  to  issue  as  from  a  cowl,  small  ears  thrown  back 
into  this  tuft  of  wool,  —  this  is  what  at  once  distinguishes 
them  from  other  breeds." 

The  country  from  Dover  to  London,  by  way  of 
Canterbury,  in  a  stage-coach,  delighted  Madame 
Roland.  Nothing  escaped  her  notice,  from  the 
trim-clipped  hedges,  sleek  green  fields  and  hop- 
gardens to  the  snug  Kentish  villages,  where  every 
cottage  boasted  its  neatly-kept  garden,  and  "  every 
cabbage  had  its  rose-tree."  Some  curious  glimpses 
of  English  manners,  as  they  were  just  a  hundred 
years  since,  are  afforded  by  Madame  Roland's  ac- 
count of  her  tour.  It  sounds  very  strange  and 
quaint  to  hear  of  "  watchmen  that  walk  about 
with  a  rattle,  a  lantern,  and  a  long  white  pole, 
calling  the  hours  as  they  struck."  These  were 
the  flourishing  days  of  highway  and  other  rob- 
beries ;  and  our  traveller  remarks  that  well-to-do 


IOO  MADAME  ROLAND. 

persons,  leaving  town  in  the  summer,  "expect 
to  find  their  houses  robbed  on  their  return  ;  and 
that  for  precaution's  sake  they  carried  what  is 
called  the  robber 's purse  along  with  them,  intended 
to  be  given  up  to  them  in  case  of  an  attack.  It 
is  here  as  it  was  in  Lacedaemonia,  to  the  vigilance 
of  every  individual  is  left  the  care  of  avoiding 
these  little  daily  losses  ;  besides,  it  would  be  ap- 
prehended that  every  well-armed  guard,  every 
means  of  police  or  of  rigor,  at  first  established 
for  the  safety  of  the  citizens,  would  shortly  be- 
come an  instrument  of  oppression  and  tyranny." 
To  the  Republican-minded  Frenchwoman,  chaf- 
ing under  the  grinding  centralization  of  her  own 
government,  this  practice  of  self-help  seemed  then 
the  paradise  of  public  life.  Deeply  impressed  with 
the  Houses  of  Parliament,  she  was  present  at  a 
debate  on  the  East  India  Company,  when  she 
heard  the  young  Prime  Minister  Pitt,  and  Fox, 
his  eloquent  antagonist. 

Westminster  Abbey,  with  its  monuments  to 
great  men,  the  British  Museum,  the  Royal  So- 
ciety, —  the  President  of  which,  Sir  Joseph  Banks, 
the  Rolands  were  very  intimate  with,  —  all  gave 
to  Madame  Roland  the  impression  of  a  proud, 
vigorous  national  life.  Ranelagh,  so  charmingly 
described  in  Miss  Burney's  "  Evelina,"  was  then 
the  rendezvous  of  fashionable  society,  and  Madame 
Roland  was  as  pleased  with  the  tone  of  quiet  good- 


JOURNEY  TO  ENGLAND:  :.  [Oi 

breeding  pervading  these  assemblies  as  with  the 
energy  and  passion  displayed  in  the  public  meet- 
ings. In  fact,  in  her  eyes,  as  in  those  of  so  many 
of  her  countrymen,  England  was  then  the  model 
nation.  Brissot,  who  some  years  afterwards  be- 
came the  intimate  friend  of  the  Rolands  and 
leader  of  the  Girondin  party,  was  about  this  time 
leading  a  retired  yet  busy  life  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Brompton,  delightedly  inhaling  its  pure 
country  air  and  congratulating  himself  on  his 
happiness  in  enjoying  freedom  of  thought,  in- 
stead of  living  in  constant  apprehension  of  the 
bolts  and  bars  of  the  Bastile !  The  grim  towers 
of  the  Bastile,  the  impassable  moat  of  the  Bastile, 
the  dumb,  dull  grip  of  the  walls  of  the  Bastile,  — 
this  was  the  dreaded  object  which  cast  its  deadly 
shadow  on  the  muzzled  thought  of  France  !  This 
was  the  living  tomb  from  which  they  shrank  back 
aghast,  and  which  made  so  many  of  them,  as  soon 
as  they  touched  English  soil,  breathe  our  heavy, 
fog-laden,  smoke-begrimed  atmosphere  as  if  it  were 
the  very  elixir  of  life.  Had  Burke  been  bred  in 
the  shadow  of  the  Bastile,  and  felt  the  iron  of  its 
chains  enter  into  his  flesh,  he  could  never  after- 
wards have  made  all  Europe  re-echo  to  the  de- 
clamatory blasts  of  his  vehement  invective  against 
the  French  people. 

In  the  beginning  of  August,  1784,  the  Rolands 
returned  from  the  political  land  of  Goshen  to  their 


702  MADAME  -ROLAND. 

own  poor,  suffering  country,  then  so  miserably 
"cabined,  cribbed,  confined;"  and  Madame  Ro- 
land writing  of  this  tour  remarks,  flatteringly  to 
English  feelings :  — 

"  I  shall  ever  remember  with  pleasure  a  country  of  which 
De  Lolme  taught  me  to  love  the  Constitution,  and  where 
I  have  witnessed  the  happy  effects  which  that  Constitution 
has  produced.  Fools  may  chatter,  and  slaves  may  sing, 
but  you  may  take  my  word  for  it  that  England  contains 
men  who  have  a  right  to  laugh  at  us." 

Her  admiration  of  English  women  is  expressed 
in  glowing  terms  to  Bosc  :  — 

"  I  wish  to  heaven  I  had  you  in  England !  you  would 
fall  in  love  with  all  the  women.  I  was  very  near  doing  so, 
in  spite  of  being  one  myself.  They  bear  no  resemblance 
to  ours,  and  have  in  general  that  oval  form  of  countenance 
which  Lavater  commends.  Take  my  word  for  it,  that  the 
individual  who  does  not  feel  some  esteem  for  the  English, 
and  a  degree  of  affection  mixed  with  admiration  for  their 
women,  is  either  a  pitiful  coxcomb  or  an  ignorant  block- 
head who  talks  about  what  he  does  not  understand." 

A  few  weeks  after  their  return  from  England 
the  Rolands  removed  from  Amiens,  and  Madame 
Roland's  correspondence  with  the  excellent  and 
faithful  Bosc,  the  friend  she  had  made  there,  con- 
tains most  of  the  materials  for  her  life  between 
1782  and  1790.  Bosc,  like  most  men  who  knew 
her,  felt  the  magnetic  attraction  of  this  noble 
woman,  and  never  swerved  in  his  fidelity  to  her. 


LIFE  AT  VILLEFRANCHE.  1 03 

When  she  accompanied  her  husband  to  Ville- 
franche,  the  severing  of  their  intercourse  cast 
him  into  profound  dejection  ;  and  it  was  only 
little  by  little  that  her  friendly  letters,  pervaded 
as  they  are  by  a  spirit  of  calm  fortitude,  restored 
him  to  a  state  of  greater  equanimity. 

The  next  few  years  were  passed  by  her  and  her 
husband  either  at  Lyons,  the  Clos  de  la  Platiere, 
or  Villefranche,  a  provincial  town  five  miles  from 
Lyons,  where  the  Rolands  had  a  family  mansion, 
then  inhabited  by  Roland's  mother —  who  was  the 
same  age  as  the  century  —  and  by  a  very  pious 
elder  brother.  Roland,  who  had  been  for  years 
on  bad  terms  with  his  conservative  family,  sought 
a  reconciliation  on  his  marriage,  and  now  came  to 
live  with  them,  although  he  and  his  radical  wife 
felt  like  ducks  out  of  water  amid  the  retrograde 
society  of  the  place.  Villefranche,  far  removed 
from  the  strong  central  pulsation  of  French  life, 
insignificant  even  when  compared  with  such  a 
town  as  Amiens,  was  in  some  respects  a  little 
depressing  to  the  daughter  of  Paris. 

Madame  Roland's  time  at  Villefranche  was  even 
less  at  her  own  disposal  than  during  any  other 
period  of  her  life,  and  she  had  very  little  leisure 
to  devote  to  the  intellectual  pursuits  so  congenial 
to  her.  Owing  to  her  mother-in-law's  great  age, 
the  entire  charge  of  a  large  household  devolved 
upon  her ;  and  this  household  had  to  be  ordered, 


104  MADAME  ROLAND. 

not  in  conformity  to  her  own  tastes,  but  in  every 
minutest  particular  according  to  the  whims  and 
crotchets  of  a  terrible  octogenarian  lady,  whose 
tongue  and  temper  more  than  equalled  that  of  the 
typical  mother-in-law.  The  brothers,  too,  did  not 
hit  it  off  very  amicably,  the  elder  having  as  great 
a  passion  for  domineering  as  the  younger  for  inde- 
pendence. However,  Madame  Roland  did  her 
best  to  bring  these  discordant  elements  into  har- 
mony. Her  first  care  in  the  morning  was  her 
child's  and  her  husband's  breakfast ;  then,  leaving 
them  both  at  work  in  their  respective  ways,  she 
went  to  see  after  her  household  affairs.  At  the 
stroke  of  noon  the  dinner  was  bound  to  be  on  the 
table  and  they  to  be  dressed  for  it,  or  woe  betide ! 
This  latter  formality,  however,  was  accomplished 
by  Madame  Roland  in  about  ten  minutes,  after 
which  she  would  sit  and  talk  with  her  amiable 
mother-in-law  till  the  arrival  of  visitors,  —  for  the 
old  lady  was  passionately  addicted  to  company. 
When  thus  set  at  liberty  she  retired  to  her  hus- 
band's study,  where  she  helped  him  with  his  liter- 
ary work,  and  collected  materials  for  his  articles 
in  the  "  Encyclopedic  Nouvelle"  to  which  Roland 
largely  contributed,  and  for  which  her  beautiful 
hand  penned  many  a  page  on  such  unattractive 
subjects  as  u  Peat,"  "  Furs,"  "  Manure,"  etc. 

This  was  no  doubt  a  monotonous,  sober,  if  not 
sombre,  kind    of  existence   for   such   a   glowing 


THE   CLOS  DE  LA    PLATlkRE.  105 

nature  as  Madame  Roland's.  Sometimes  she 
must  have  yearned  for  a  richer  life  or  even  for 
the  golden  leisure  of  the  little  closet  on  the  Quai 
de  l'Horloge,  when  she  could  revel  at  will  in  the 
classics  or  in  the  pages  of  Rousseau.  But  now 
had  come  more  austere  days  ;  literature  had  to 
be  laid  aside,  music  and  Italian  were  becoming 
rusty,  —  yet  in  the  fulfilment  of  all  its  duties  this 
fine  nature  always  found  the  highest  satisfaction. 

She  had  consolations,  moreover,  in  the  close 
and  ever  closer  sympathy  which  grew  between 
her  husband  and  herself,  and  in  the  ever  fresh 
interest  which  she  felt  in  her  daughter  Eudora 
(who  hardly  ever  left  her  mother's  side),  described 
as  being  "  a  pretty  little  prattler,  as  full  of  mis- 
chief as  a  monkey,"  and  who  seems  to  have  taken 
after  her  father's  family  in  character  and  tem- 
perament. She  showed  none  of  her  mother's 
precocious  passion  for  books,  but  was  an  incor- 
rigible romp,  whose  childish  doings,  sayings,  and 
ailments  are  as  minutely  retailed  to  the  friendly 
Bosc  as  if  he,  too,  had  been  a  young  mother 
painfully  interested  in  an  infant's  growth. 

Every  autumn  M.  and  Mme.  Roland  left  the 
depressing  atmosphere  of  Villefranche  to  spend 
some  time  at  the  Clos  de  la  Platiere,  that  remnant 
of  ancestral  estates.  It  resembled  a  farm  more 
than  a  manor-house,  with  a  low  red-tiled  roof  and 
projecting  eaves ;  and  from  its  terrace  one  saw 


106  MADAME  ROLAND. 

the  white  outline  of  the  Alps,  Mont  Blanc,  called 
"The  Cat's  Mountain"  by  the  peasant  folk,  tow- 
ering above  them  all.  The  country,  dotted  about 
with  innumerable  hillocks,  was  planted  with  vines, 
and  such  value  as  the  Clos  possessed  was  due  to 
its  vineyard.  To  the  house  itself  were  attached 
a  kitchen-garden,  an  orchard  richly  stocked  with 
fruit-trees,  a  yard  and  out-houses,  barns  and  gran- 
aries for  the  harvest  and  vintage,  etc.  Here,  if 
anywhere,  Madame  Roland  felt  at  home  in  a  wide- 
reaching  activity;  for  as  early  as  1778  she  had 
written  in  her  diary:  — 

"  I  never  conceived  anything  more  desirable  than  a  life 
divided  between  domestic  cares  and  those  of  agriculture, 
spent  on  a  healthy  and  plentiful  farm,  with  a  small  family, 
where  the  example  of  the  master  and  mistress,  and  the  habit 
of  work  in  common,  produce  peace,  good-will,  and  general 
content." 

Now  she  could  at  times  realize  this  simple  ideal, 
and  her  spirits  rose  visibly  whenever  she  was  at 
the  Clos  de  la  Platiere,  —  whether  in  spring, 
autumn,  or  even  in  severe  winter  weather,  when 
the  wide-rolling  country  and  valley  of  the  Saone 
were  clogged  with  snow,  and  the  howling  of 
wolves  came  from  the  large  forests  surrounding 
them. 

Some  of  the  most  playful  letters  ever  written 
by  Madame  Roland  are  dated  from  the  Clos,  and 
her  life  there  was  not  altogether  so  sad  and  joy- 


THE   CLOS  DE  LA   PLATI&RE.  107 

less  as  the  warm-hearted  Michelet  would  have  us 
believe.  It  was  more  the  life  of  a  farmer's  wife, 
perhaps,  than  of  a  lady,  —  not  so  much  a  pleasant 
country  holiday  passed  in  leisurely  rambles  and 
pleasure  excursions,  as  real  unmistakable  out-door 
work,  which  left  barely  any  time  for  more  studious 
occupations.  But  such  as  it  was,  it  suited  Madame 
Roland's  hardy  temperament ;  and  through  some 
of  her  epistles  to  Bosc  there  pierces  a  vein  of 
"  sunburnt  mirth "  quite  foreign  to  her  tone  in 
town.  Adapting  Lafontaine's  well-known  "  Eh, 
bonjour,  Monsieur  le  Corbeau,"  she  begins  one  of 
her  letters  :  — 

"  And  good  morning  to  you,  our  friend  !  It  is  long, 
indeed,  since  I  wrote  you  last;  but  then  I  have  not  put 
pen  to  paper  within  the  month,  and  I  fancy  that  I  must  be 
imbibing  some  of  the  tastes  of  the  good  animal  whose  milk 
is  restoring  me  to  health.  I  am  growing  asinine  by  dint  of 
attending  to  the  little  cares  of  a  piggish  country  life.  I  am 
preserving  pears,  which  will  be  delicious  ;  we  are  drying 
raisins  and  prunes  ;  are  in  the  midst  of  a  great  wash,  and 
getting  up  the  linen  ;  we  breakfast  on  white  wine,  and  then 
lie  on  the  grass  till  its  fumes  have  passed  off ;  after  super- 
intending the  vintage,  we  take  a  rest  in  the  shade  of  the 
woods  or  meadows  ;  knock  down  the  walnuts,  and,  after 
gathering  our  stock  of  fruit  for  the  winter,  spread  it  in  the 
garrets.  Adieu  ;  there  is  some  talk  of  breakfasting  and 
going  in  a  body  to  gather  the  almonds." 

On  another  mellow  October  day,  she  thus 
banteringly  addresses  the  same  friend  (with  a 
passing  allusion  to  Henry  IV.'s  letter) :  — 


108  MADAME  ROLAND. 

"'Hang  thyself,  dainty  Crillon ! '  we  are  making  jams 
and  jellies,  and  sweet  wine  and  sweetmeats,  and  you  are 
not  here  to  taste  them  !  These,  elegant  Sir,  are  my  present 
occupations.  The  vintage  in  the  mean  time  is  going  on 
apace,  and  very  shortly  it  will  only  be  in  the  cellar  of  the 
master,  and  in  the  cupboard  of  the  mistress  of  the  house 
that  the  wine  and  the  delicious  fruit  will  be  found.  This 
year's  wine  will  be  excellent ;  but  we  shall  have  little  of  it, 
on  account  of  the  visit  paid  us  by  the  hail,  —  an  honor 
which  always  leaves  a  dear  and  lasting  remembrance  be- 
hind it.  Why,  pray,  do  you  not  write  to  us,  —  you  who 
have  no  vintage  to  attend  to?  Can  there  be  any  other 
occupation  in  the  world  beside  ? " 

Madame  Roland's  industry  was  by  no  means 
restricted  to  the  care  of  her  own  household,  where 
she  was  forced  by  circumstances  to  practise  the 
strictest  economy.  Her  bounteous  activity  over- 
flowed the  narrow  limits  of  the  family  circle,  and 
for  miles  round  her  unassuming  dwelling  the 
peasants  looked  upon  her  as  a  kind  of  Bona  Diva, 
and  turned  to  her  confidingly  in  trouble  or  dis- 
ease. Before  medical  women  were  thought  of, 
she  became  the  village  doctor  of  her  district,  and 
within  a  circuit  of  two, or  three  leagues  the  sick 
would  send  for  her.  Sometimes  in  urgent  cases, 
bringing  a  horse  for  her  to  ride,  would  come  a 
country  yeoman,  praying  her  instantly  to  save 
the  life  of  some  dying  relative.  Madame  Roland 
deprecates  the  notion  of  peasants  not  being  grate- 
ful for  kindness  shown  them.     She  declares,  on 


JOURNEY  TO  SWITZERLAND.  109 

the  contrary,  that  she  met  with  the  greatest  affec- 
tion in  return  ;  and  if  the  court-yard  of  her  abode 
was  often  thronged  on  a  Sunday  with  poor  in- 
valids imploring  relief,  others  came  too,  bring- 
ing loving  little  presents,  —  baskets  of  chestnuts, 
goat's-milk,  cheeses,  or  apples  from  their  orchards. 

Thus  the  laborious  years  passed,  marked  by 
few  outward  changes.  In  1787  Madame  Roland's 
father  died  of  a  catarrh,  aged  upwards  of  sixty. 
He  had  never  become  quite  reconciled  to  his 
daughter's  marriage,  and  yet  after  running  through 
everything  he  possessed  he  had  been  obliged  to 
retire  on  an  annuity  provided  by  his  son-in-law. 
The  discrepancy  of  character  between  himself 
and  the  latter  must  have  chafed  his  self-love  all 
the  more  that  he  could  not  escape  the  obligations 
bestowed  on  him. 

In  the  same  year,  1787,  the  Rolands  paid  a 
visit  to  Switzerland,  whither  Roland,  who  was 
frequently  ailing,  repaired  in  search  of  health. 
His  wife  kept  a  record  of  her  tour,  but  for  us  of 
the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth  century,  to  whom 
Switzerland  has  become  the  hackneyed  playground 
of  Europe,  it  contains  nothing  that  is  not  already 
perfectly  familiar.  What  does  strike  one  as  new 
and  strange  is  the  fact  that  there  were  then  no 
big,  barrack-like  hotels,  defacing  with  pompous 
tastelessness  the  beautiful  solitude  of  the  Alps. 
No  ;  the  pupil  of  Rousseau  —  whose  pulses  must 


IIO  MADAME  ROLAND. 

have  beat  higher  as  she  trod  the  sacred  ground 
of  Clarens,  and  "  measured  with  her  eye  the  height 
of  the  rocks  of  Meillerie "  —  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  see  the  Swiss  valleys  with  their  peasantry 
in  their  original  freshness.  So  little  accommoda- 
tion for  strangers  was  to  be  found  in  the  Bernese 
Oberland  in  those  days,  that  the  travellers  were 
hospitably  entertained  by  a  good  pastor,  who  with 
his  wife  and  seven  children  resided  in  the  village 
of  Lauterbrunnen.  These  kindly  people  gave  the 
wayfarers  (nine  of  them  sat  down  to  their  homely 
fare)  of  their  best,  and  loaded  the  flower-loving 
Madame  Roland,  who  hardly  knew  how  to  be 
grateful  enough,  with  a  profusion  of  roses  on  part- 
ing. Her  description  of  this  incident  reads  like 
an  idyl,  as  compared  with  the  spirit  of  greed 
which  now  adulterates  even  the  honey  from  the 
honeycomb. 

The  rocks  and  woods,  the  valleys  and  water- 
falls, the  bristling  ravines  and  rushing  rivers,  the 
stillness  of  the  aromatic  meadows,  only  broken  by 
the  rcuiz  des  vaclies,  the  star-bright  glory  of  the 
Jungfrau  and  her  Silberhorn,  —  all  this  new  world 
of  beauty  and  grandeur  burst  on  the  pure  soul  of 
the  child  of  the  Seine  with  a  rapture  of  delight. 
Her  interest  was  divided  between  the  natural 
beauties  of  Switzerland  and  its  political  consti- 
tution, which  engrossed  her  even  more.  She  got 
all    the    information    she    could    concerning   the 


JOURNEY  TO  SWITZERLAND.         Ill 

working  of  republican  institutions,  the  power 
vested  in  the  Senate  and  the  character  of  the 
elections.  After  visiting  many  of  the  Cantons, 
she  expatiated  on  the  striking  differences  between 
the  Roman  Catholic  and  Protestant  parts  of  the 
country,  and  on  the  much  greater  morality  and 
cleanliness  prevalent  in  the  latter.  The  same 
contrast,  only  in  a  more  marked  degree,  she  also 
noticed  between  the  inhabitants  of  the  Swiss 
Republic  and  the  German  Empire,  much  to  the 
disadvantage  of  the  latter. 

After  the  death  of  Madame  la  Platiere,  Madame 
Roland  passed  the  greater  part  of  her  time  at 
the  Clos,  her  husband  being  frequently  called  to 
Lyons  and  other  places  by  his  official  duties. 
Content  apparently  to  spend  the  rest  of  her  life 
in  a  remote  country  place,  superintending  her 
household,  attending  to  the  vintage,  compiling 
articles  for  her  husband,  she  was  what  may  be 
called  the  highest  type  of  the  Frenchwoman, — 
that  is,  of  the  Frenchwoman  of  the  middle  classes, 
who  so  far  from  being  the  frail,  fair,  and  frivolous 
coquette  of  the  French  novelist,  is,  on  the  con- 
trary, the  most  active,  practical,  and  sagacious 
specimen  of  her  sex.  Every  traveller  in  France 
is  doubtless  struck  by  seeing  women  taking  so 
very  large  a  share  in  trade  and  commerce  ;  the 
actual  management  of  affairs  is  continually  shifted 
from  the  husband  on  to  the  wife,  although  it  may 


112  MADAME  ROLAND. 

not  be  so  to  outward  appearance.  They  are  the 
exact  opposite  of  the  constitutional  sovereign,  of 
whom  it  is  said  that  he  reigns  but  does  not  gov- 
ern ;  Frenchwomen  govern  but  do  not  reign. 

Up  to  this  point  of  Manon  Roland's  life  we 
cannot  avoid  the  conviction  of  a  great  moral  force 
frittered  away  on  liliputian  tasks  :  the  preparing 
of  dainty  dishes  for  her  husband's  delicate  diges- 
tion, the  mending  of  house-linen,  the  setting  a 
child  its  lessons,  —  excellent  tasks  all,  but  which 
affect  one  with  something  of  the  ludicrous  dispro- 
portion of  making  use  of  the  fires  of  Etna  to  fry 
one's  eggs  by !  It  seems,  indeed,  a  curious  irony 
of  destiny  that  this  great  woman  should  have 
spent  many  of  her  best  years  on  things  for  which 
so  much  less  ability  was  required,  while  so  many 
small  people  in  high  places  were  bungling  over 
the  welfare  of  millions.  But  such  are  at  present 
the  satisfactory  arrangements  of  society ;  and  in 
the  remote  Clos  de  la  Platiere,  her  real  strength 
unsuspected  by  the  world  and  only  half  guessed 
at  by  herself,  Madame  Roland  would  have  led 
her  resigned  and  laborious  existence,  and  died 
unknown,  but  for  the  echoes  which,  reaching  the 
arid  hill-country  of  Beaujolais,  were  reverberated 
from  homestead  to  hamlet,  from  market  town  to 
seaport,  from  province  to  province,  till  France 
was  shaken  from  end  to  end  by  the  thunder  of 
the  storming  of  the  Bastile. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

FRANCE  BEFORE  THE  REVOLUTION. 

As  the  life  of  Madame  Roland  will  now  become 
part  of  the  History  of  the  French  Revolution, 
let  us  pause  a  moment,  and  briefly  review  the 
political  and  social  condition  of  a  people  within 
whose  capital  stood  the  Bastile,  —  its  fortifica- 
tions, bristling  with  cannon,  being  a  visible  em- 
bodiment of  an  invisible  idea  and  a  system  of 
government.  Glancing  backwards,  we  find  that 
the  feudal  order  of  the  Middle  Ages,  with  its 
graduated  authority, — vested  in  the  hands  of 
successive  orders  of  agricultural  and  military 
chiefs,  subordinated  in  their  turn  to  one  supreme 
chief,  the  Sovereign  of  the  realm,  —  had  gradu- 
ally become  absorbed  in  an  absolute  monarchy. 
Louis  XIV.  had  put  the  situation  in  a  nutshell 
in  his  famous  phrase,  "  I  am  the  State."  The 
"right  divine"  of  kings  had  reached  its  utmost 
limit  under  the  Grand  Mouarque,  whose  prestige 
was  such  that  his  frown  snuffed  out  the  great 
poet  Racine,  and  the  mere  apprehension  of 
whose  frown  drove  Vatel,  the  paragon  of  cooks, 

S 


114  MADAME  ROLAND. 

to  suicide,  because  the  fish  had  not  arrived  in 
time  for  the  King's  dinner. 

This  is  the  serio-comic  aspect  of  a  state  of 
things  of  unimaginable  wretchedness.  The  bur- 
den of  taxation  laid  on  the  people  ruined  agricul- 
ture and  commerce,  and  when  whole  provinces 
had  been  driven  into  rebellion  by  intolerable  ex- 
actions, they  were  reduced  to  obedience  by 
means  of  wholesale  slaughter.  Madame  de  S6- 
vigne,  in  the  charming  epistles  addressed  to  her 
daughter,  did  not  dream  of  attacking  the  Govern- 
ment ;  but  what  a  picture  of  corruption  does  not 
that  correspondence  reveal !  Lower  Brittany, 
from  sheer  inability  to  pay  more  taxes,  had  taken 
up  arms,  but  was  soon  reduced  to  obedience  by 
the  King's  troops,  and  no  punishment  was  severe 
enough  for  its  inhabitants.  The  brilliant  Mar- 
quise, in  travelling  from  Paris  to  her  estates  there 
in  1675,  saw  "  peasants  hanging  on  the  trees  by 
the  roadside,"  and  in  her  budget  of  news  speaks 
of  "rebels  broken  on  the  wheel  by  hundreds,"  — 
so  many  hundreds  being  despatched,  indeed,  that 
she  says  in  one  letter,  "  They  have  done  hang- 
ing for  want  of  people  to  hang."  These  "  poor 
Lower  Bretons "  took  it  so  meekly,  too !  asked 
"  but  for  something  to  drink,  a  pinch  of  snuff, 
and  to  be  despatched  quickly  ;  for,  indeed,"  she 
remarks,  "  hanging  seems  a  kind  of  deliverance 
here  from  greater  evils." 


FRANCE  BEFORE   THE  REVOLUTION,     IIS 

But  let  the  amiable,  witty  French  Marquise 
beware  of  too  much  sympathy  for  "  the  despair 
and  desolation "  of  her  "  poor  province  of  Brit- 
tany ; "  for  even  such  letters  as  hers  —  from 
mother  to  daughter — did  not  escape  the  watch- 
ful eyes  of  postal  spies,  and  an  ill-considered 
word  of  compassion,  nay,  a  witticism,  might 
send  her  to  the  Bastile  despite  her  marquisate. 
Merely  for  some  such  trifle,  some  satirical  lines 
on  Madame  de  Pompadour,  had  not  a  certain 
Chevalier  de  Resseguier  been  shut  up  for  years 
in  an  iron  cage,  to  endure  the  torture  of  neither 
being  able  to  stand  upright  nor  of  lying  down  ? 
Who,  remembering  these  punishments,  those  in- 
famous Lettres  de  Cachet,  given  in  blank  by 
Louis  XV.  to  his  minions  and  mistresses,  to  be 
filled  in  by  them  with  the  name  of  whomsoever 
they  chose,  —  who,  I  say,  remembering  this,  can 
help  giving  the  people  absolution  if  in  return  its 
retribution  was  terrible  ? 

The  unlimited  power  of  the  Sovereign,  having 
sapped  the  pride  of  the  French  nobles,  had  gradu- 
ally converted  them  from  a  body  of  responsible 
landholders  into  cringing  courtiers,  who  absent- 
ing themselves  from  their  estates,  —  left  in  the 
hands  of  rapacious  stewards  and  land-agents,  — 
came  to  spend  their  revenues  in  Versailles,  and 
to  intrigue  for  place  and  power  by  paying  court 
to  the   King's  reigning  mistress.     It   was  while 


Il6  MADAME  ROLAND. 

performing  her  toilet  that  Madame  de  Pompa- 
dour received  the  lords,  generals,  prelates,  and 
princes  of  the  blood  ;  nor  were  any  of  them  suf- 
fered to  sit  down  in  her  presence.  But  while 
behaving  like  curs  at  court,  these  same  nobles 
turned  into  wolves  in  their  dealings  with  the 
peasantry,  whom  they  fleeced  as  if  they  were  so 
many  flocks  of  sheep. 

In  describing  the  relations  of  the  nobles  to  the 
French  peasantry,  it  is  difficult  to  speak  with 
more  than  approximate  correctness  ;  for  as  each 
province  had  its  separate  laws  and  customs  and 
fiscal  regulations,  their  conditions  were  often 
widely  dissimilar,  and  the  discrepancy  between 
Provence  and  Brittany,  for  example,  was  so  great 
that  they  were  more  like  two  separate  countries 
than  provinces  of  the  same  empire.  Thus  al- 
though the  peasants  were  everywhere  wretchedly 
treated,  they  were  worse  off  in  some  parts  of 
France  than  in  others,  —  emancipated  in  this 
district,  while  in  that  they  were  in  the  truly  pur- 
gatorial condition  of  what  was  called  metayers, 
being  neither  bond  nor  free,  so  as  to  be  equally 
deprived  of  the  rights  of  liberty  and  the  privi- 
leges of  serfdom.  In  years  of  scarcity  they  were 
frequently  turned  adrift  by  the  land-owners,  whose 
dues  they  were  unable  to  pay,  thus  swelling  the 
appalling  host  of  beggars  and  vagrants  which 
was  one  of  the  scourges  of  old  France.     In  order 


FRANCE  BEFORE   THE  REVOLUTION.     l\J 

to  protect  society  from  these  famishing  hordes 
infesting  the  highways  and  by-ways,  the  most 
stringent  edicts  were  continually  published 
against  them.  They  were  branded  like  crimi- 
nals, and  stuffed  pell-mell  into  prisons  dignified 
by  the  name  of  hospitals,  where  in  conformity  to 
orders  they  were  forced  to  lie  down  on  straw  in 
order  to  take  up  less  room.  The  indignant  Saint 
Simon  wrote  as  follows  to  Cardinal  Fleury,  in 
the  first  quarter  of  the  eighteenth  century  :  — 

"In  Normandy  they  live  on  the  grass  of  the  fields.  I 
speak  in  secret  and  in  confidence  to  a  Frenchman,  a  bishop, 
a  minister,  and  to  the  only  man  who  seems  to  enjoy  the 
friendship  and  the  confidence  of  the  King,  and  is  able  to 
speak  in  private  to  him.  The  King,  moreover,  can  be 
called  such  only  while  he  possesses  subjects  and  a  king- 
dom ;  he  is  of  an  age  one  day  to  feel  the  consequences  of 
our  state  ;  and  in  spite  of  being  the  first  King  in  Europe, 
he  cannot  be  a  great  King  if  he  only  rules  over  wretches 
of  all  sorts  and  conditions,  with  his  kingdom  turned  into 
one  vast  infirmary  for  the  desperate  and  dying." 

What  a  picture  is  this  of  the  state  to  which 
the  country  had  been  reduced  !  And  it  puzzles 
one  not  a  little  to  understand  why  so  rich  and 
fertile  a  country  as  France  —  a  country  which, 
after  its  disasters  in  1870,  recovered  with  aston- 
ishing rapidity  from  the  ravages  of  an  invading 
army  —  should  only  a  century  before  have  been 
such  a  scene  of  desolation  and  sterility.  But  the 
cause  lay  chiefly  in  the  rapacity  with  which  the 


Il8  MADAME  ROLAND. 

privileged  classes  had  cast  the  whole  burden  of 
taxation  on  the  shoulders  of  the  people.  The 
theory  with  which  they  justified  this  equitable 
arrangement  was  that  u  the  nobility  paid  in  blood, 
the  clergy  in  prayer,  and  the  people  in  money  ! " 
Poor  people !  whose  toil  and  whose  tithes  had 
in  the  course  of  time  helped  the  Gallican  Church 
to  accumulate  in  lands  and  money  what  amounted 
to  more  than  half  the  revenue  of  the  kingdom, 
and  which,  in  spite  of  its  tithes  and  taxes,  was 
not  by  any  means  exempt  from  shedding  its 
blood  on  the  battle  fields,  of  which  others  reaped 
the  glory  and  the  greatness.  In  the  feudal  ages, 
when  fighting  was  the  badge  of  knighthood,  there 
might  have  been  some  faint  shadow  of  meaning 
in  this  invidious  distinction,  which  became  a 
mere  farce  after  the  invention  of  gunpowder  ; 
and  the  exemption  of  the  aristocracy  and  clergy 
from  taxation  showed,  in  regard  to  this  society, 
that  it  was  simply  relapsing  into  a  state  of  natu- 
ral anarchy,  —  that  of  the  strong  preying  on  the 
weak  without  let  or  hindrance  from  justice. 

Under  the  closely-woven  net-work  of  this  sys- 
tem of  taxation,  agriculture  and  commerce  —  the 
two  lungs  of  national  prosperity — were  stifling 
for  want  of  room.  The  ruling  powers  seemed  to 
resemble  nothing  so  much  as  those  monstrous 
harpies  of  fable,  who,  however  greedily  they  fed, 
were  yet  gnawed  by  insatiable  hunger.     To  wring 


FRANCE  BEFORE   THE  REVOLUTION.     119 

ever  fresh  subsidies  from  the  body  of  the  people 
seemed  to  be  the  sole  business  of  government. 
Among  the  most  oppressive  of  these  fiscal  griev- 
ances (for  the  system  was  so  obscure  and  com- 
plicated that  the  high  financiers  themselves  only 
understood  it  in  portion)  may  be  enumerated  the 
Gabelle,  the  Taille,  the  Corvee,  and  the  Aides. 

As  is  well  known,  the  Gabelle,  a  tax  on  salt,  was 
so  oppressively  administered,  that  in  some  prov- 
inces, when  this  article  was  scarce,  the  people, 
down  to  every  child,  were  forced  to  buy  a  regu- 
lation quantity,  whether  they  wanted  it  or  not ; 
whereas,  in  other  provinces,  such  as  Provence, 
where  salt  was  naturally  formed  on  the  coast, 
soldiers  were  stationed  at  certain  times  of  the 
year  to  prevent  even  the  cattle  from  imbibing  the 
saline  properties  of  the  soil.  The  Taille,  a  tax 
raised  on  property  and  income,  was  equally  op- 
pressive, because,  as  must  be  remembered,  it  was 
a  tax  raised  only  on  the  property  and  income  of 
the  unprivileged  classes.  Thirdly,  there  was  the 
detested  Corvee,  the  unremunerated  service  origi- 
nally due  from  serf  or  tenant  to  his  Seigneur, 
copied  by  the  Government  in  the  beginning  of 
the  eighteenth  century,  when  the  public  Corve'es 
were  instituted.  Then  might  be  seen  groups  of 
peasants  —  hungry,  sullen,  wrathful  —  pressed 
like  malefactors  into  the  unpaid  labor  of  con- 
structing and  repairing  the   public   roads  ;    and 


120  MADAME  ROLAND. 

while  they  were  making  the  highways  for  the 
easier  locomotion  of  the  Grand  Seigneur  and  the 
wealthy  financier,  their  own  field  of  grass  or  patch 
of  wheat  was  in  the  mean  while  ruined  for  want 
of  the  requisite  labor.  Next  came  the  Aides,  or 
subsidies  on  all  fermented  liquors,  which  bore  so 
heavily  on  the  wine  trade  as  to  check  this  the 
most  productive  source  of  wealth  in  the  country. 
The  vintage  was  no  sooner  over  than  gaugers 
appeared,  ransacking  the  cellars  and  confiscating 
what  had  not  been  duly  registered  and  declared. 
The  very  owners  were  taxed  for  everything  but  a 
very  small  quantity.  On  entering  and  leaving 
towns,  on  entering  or  leaving  provinces,  along  the 
high-road  and  rivers,  under  and  over  bridges,  on 
entering  and  leaving  wine-shops,  the  barrel  of 
wine  encountered  a  fresh  obstacle.  For  a  system 
of  internal  custom-houses  formed  artificial  fron- 
tiers, impeding  all  free  circulation  of  provisions ; 
so  that  a  measure  of  wine  which  in  Orleanais  was 
worth  one  half-penny,  by  the  time  it  arrived  in 
Normandy  cost  a  shilling ! 

These  taxes  were  not  levied  by  salaried  Govern- 
ment officials,  but  were  let  out  to  fermiers-gaicraux 
(tax-farmers),  who  again  underlet  them  to  sub- 
ordinates. Their  method  of  procedure  was  per- 
fectly arbitrary ;  and  the  mere  fact  that  they  were 
not  paid,  but  expected  to  indemnify  themselves 
when  once  they  had  apportioned  its  share  to  the 


FRANCE  BEFORE   THE  REVOLUTION.     121 

Government,  gave  the  rein  to  a  system  of  whole- 
sale spoliation  only  to  be  matched  in  Turkey  at 
the  present  day,  or  by  the  extortions  of  the  pre- 
fects in  the  conquered  provinces  of  the  Roman 
Empire.  Adam  Smith,  who  had  visited  France 
in  1765,  and  studied  French  finances,  wrote  in  his 
u  Wealth  of  Nations,"  —  "  The  most  sanguinary 
laws  exist  in  those  countries  where  the  revenue  is 
farmed  out  by  the  Government." 

It  is  no  wonder  that  under  such  a  system  the 
country  was  wretchedly  cultivated  ;  that  whole 
regions,  in  spite  of  a  capital  soil,  were,  according 
to  Arthur  Young,  mere  barren  tracts,  desolate 
stretches  of  dreary  bogs  and  arid  wildernesses; 
that  the  villages  and  towns  were  often  but  a  filthy 
heap  of  mud-houses  and  windowless  hovels  ;  that 
the  children  in  their  repulsive  rags  were,  "  if  pos- 
sible, worse  clad  than  if  with  no  clothes  at  all ; " 
that  the  countrywomen  —  in  the  enforced  absence 
of  husbands  and  brothers,  of  carts  and  horses  — 
were  condemned  to  the  heaviest  field-work,  till, 
disfigured  and  blasted  with  drudgery,  they  ap- 
peared not  so  much  women  as  creatures  of  amor- 
phous shape ;  and  that  this  extreme  poverty  of 
the  husbandman,  following  his  plough  "without 
wooden  shoes  or  feet  to  his  stockings,"  in  turn 
became  the  insidious  worm,  gnawing  at  the  root 
of  the  tree  of  national  prosperity. 

In   the   "  Confessions,"    Rousseau    incidentally 


122  MADAME   ROLAND. 

refers  to  the  French  peasant's  dread  of  the  tax- 
gatherer's  spies,  and  the  premium  that  was  put 
upon  poverty.  He  narrates  how,  journeying  on 
foot  from  Paris  to  Lyons,  he  lost  his  way  on  one 
occasion,  and,  footsore  and  famishing,  besought 
hospitality  of  a  peasant  for  payment.  The  rustic 
brought  him  some  skimmed  milk  and  rye-bread, 
saying  it  was  all  he  possessed.  Jean  Jacques's 
hunger  being  in  no  wise  appeased,  and  the  peasant, 
drawing  his  own  conclusions  from  this  very  gen- 
uine appetite,  cautiously  lifted  a  trap-door  near 
the  kitchen,  descended,  and  reappeared  with  a 
ham,  a  bottle  of  wine,  and  a  loaf  of  wheaten 
bread,  —  a  meal  to  make  the  traveller's  mouth 
water.  But  the  peasant's  anxiety  returned  on 
Rousseau's  offering  to  pay  him  ;  and  it  was  only 
after  much  pressing  that  he,  with  a  shudder, 
brought  out  the  terrible  words  of  tax-gatherer 
and  cellar-rat  He  explained  how  he  hid  his 
wine,  because  of  the  aides  ;  how  he  hid  his  bread 
because  of  the  taille ;  and  that  he  would  be  lost 
if  it  were  known  that  he  was  not  dying  of  hunger. 
The  impression  produced  by  the  lot  of  this  peasant 
who  dared  not  so  much  as  eat  the  bread  he  had 
earned  in  the  sweat  of  his  brow,  became  the  germ 
of  that  life-long  inextinguishable  hatred  which 
Rousseau  felt  for  the  oppression  of  the  poor, — 
became  the  germ  of  his  "  Contrat  Social,"  the  little 
book  which  kindled  so  mighty  a  conflagration. 


FRANCE  BEFORE   THE  REVOLUTION.     123 

There  was  a  limit,  however,  beyond  which  even 
the  extortions  of  the  tax-collector,  the  custom- 
house officer,  the  gauger,  could  not  proceed, — 
they  could  not  seize  where  nothing  remained  to 
be  taken.  Yet  the  public  exchequer  was  empty, 
the  public  "revenues  were  exhausted,  and  still  the 
cry  for  gold,  more  gold,  was  as  importunate  at 
Versailles  as  that  for  bread,  more  bread,  among 
the  populace.  Paris-Duvernoy,  one  of  the  minis- 
ters of  Louis  XV.,  seeing  no  other  way  out  of 
the  pressing  difficulty,  at  last  bethought  him  of 
putting  a  tax,  the  Cinqnantihne,  on  all  classes 
without  distinction.  This  tax  raised  a  perfect 
storm  of  indignation  among  the  nobility  and 
clergy.  Who  so  daring  as  to  lay  a  sacrilegious 
hand  on  the  riches  of  the  Church!  The  Duke 
was  forced  to  resign,  and  a  proclamation  was 
issued  to  the  effect  that  all  ecclesiastical  pos- 
sessions should  now  and  in  perpetuity  remain 
exempt  from  taxes  and  imposts !  The  author 
of  this  proclamation  was  that  identical  Cardinal 
Fleury,  the  confidant  of  the  King,  to  whom  Henri 
Saint  Simon  had  described  the  appalling  poverty 
of  the  realm. 

Such  was  the  conduct  of  the  Church  at  the 
approach  of  an  imminent  national  crisis ;  such 
the  rapacity  of  a  priesthood  instituted  in  the 
name  of  Christ,  the  very  core  of  whose  teach- 
ing had  been  not  to  lay  up  riches  for  yourself, 


124  MADAME  ROLAND. 

but  charity,  the  sharing  in  common  of  the  common 
fruits  of  the  earth.  If  ever  the  absolute  divorce 
between  theory  and  practice  had  the  effect  of 
producing  in  a  nation  an  army  of  cynics,  sceptics, 
and  scoffers,  then  this  effect  must  have  been  pro- 
duced in  France  at  the  beginning  of  *the  eigh- 
teenth century.  But  while  the  extravagance  and 
licentiousness  of  the  higher  clergy  had  reached 
a  fabulous  extent,  the  curds  and  village  priests 
were  left  so  badly  paid  that  they  often  depended 
for  a  livelihood  on  the  charity  of  their  poor  pa- 
rishioners. Many  of  them,  in  consequence,  were 
among  the  first  who  made  common  cause  with 
the  people  in  1789,  —  such  as  that  apostolic  figure 
of  Claude  Fauchet,  who  preached  the  Revolution 
with  the  Gospel  in  his  hand. 

With  an  irresponsible  Government,  an  effemi- 
nate aristocracy,  a  dissolute  clergy,  a  poverty- 
stricken  people,  it  seemed  that  the  ruin  of  the 
old  Regime  must  bring  about  that  of  the  realm 
itself.  But  to  save  it  from  destruction  there  was 
yet  left  one  sound  and  robust  limb  in  the  French 
body  politic,  —  the  bourgeoisie  or  middle  class ; 
although  there  did  not  then  exist  the  infinite  gra- 
dations by  which  social  inequalities  are  to  some 
degree  hidden,  or  at  least  made  less  glaring,  in 
the  present  day.  For,  as  Arthur  Young  wrote, 
"  there  were  no  gentle  transitions  from  ease  to 
comfort,  from  comfort  to  wealth ;  you  passed  at 


FRANCE  BEFORE    THE  REVOLUTION.     1 25 

once  from  beggary  to  profusion,  from  misery  in 
mud  cabins  to  Mademoiselle  Hubert  [a  popular 
actress]  in  splendid  spectacles."  Still,  from  the 
ranks  of  the  middle  class  there  rose  up  a  small 
phalanx  of  men, —  philosophers,  historians,  litte- 
rateurs, journalists,  —  impassioned  innovators, 
doughty  pioneers,  the  light  brigade  of  the  Thought 
Militant  of  human  progress.  The  very  sound  of 
the  names  of  them  —  Voltaire,  Diderot,  D'Alem- 
bert,  D'rfolbach,  Condillac,  Helvetius  —  still  rings 
upon  our  ears  like  so  many  battle-cries.  These 
were  no  word-mongers  calmly  writing  by  their 
snug  firesides,  —  these  were  soldiers  in  the  heat 
of  the  fight,  eager,  alert,  fevered  with  action,  whose 
words  were  their  swords,  and  who  too  often  paid 
for  their  audacity  with  poverty,  exile,  and  im- 
prisonment. They  have  been  much  vilified,  these 
brave  philosophers  ;  their  system  has  been  much 
misunderstood,  because,  forsooth,  it  was  less  a 
system  than  a  challenge.  It  may  be  objected 
that  a  Reformation  such  as  Luther  had  wrought 
for  Germany  in  the  sixteenth  century,  or  a  trans- 
formation such  as  Cromwell  momentarily  effected 
for  this  country  in  the  seventeenth,  would  have 
been  more  permanently  beneficial  than  their  anni- 
hilation of  all  previous  religious  and  social  moulds  ; 
but  the  Night  of  St.  Bartholomew  had  forced 
back  the  advancing  tide  of  thought  so  long,  that 
nothing  could  now  stem  its  accumulated  waters 


126  MADAME  ROLAND. 

in  their  destructive  overflow.  It  is  by  the  sangui- 
nary light  of  these  massacres  that  we  should 
read  the  writings  of  Voltaire  and  his  associates  ; 
for  thus  only  their  vehement  onslaughts,  their 
motto  of  Ecrasez  Vlnfame,  receive  their  fitting 
commentary. 

Leader  of  the  minds  who  inaugurated  the  revo- 
lution of  thought  by  importing  the  sensational 
philosophy  of  Hobbes  and  Locke  into  France,  is 
the  ubiquitous  Voltaire, —  the  intellectual  Briareus 
of  the  eighteenth  century  ;  the  man  who  did  the 
thinking  of  fifty  heads  at  least,  and  who,  while 
assisting  the  Encyclopaedists  in  their  warfare 
against  the  priests,  yet  contrived  to  seat  himself 
by  the  thrones  of  kings.  Voltaire's  primary  ser- 
vice to  his  time  consisted  in  his  sowing  division 
between  Church  and  State,  and  in  his  power  of 
making  such  potentates  as  Frederick  the  Great 
and  Catharine  of  Russia  actual  accomplices  of  his 
assaults  on  the  despotism  of  the  Hierarchy.  Thus 
shielded  by  Voltaire's  supreme  dexterity,  his  com- 
rades could  proceed  in  their  perilous  undertaking, 
—  the  publication  of  the  "  Encyclopedic,"  which 
by  revolutionizing  the  thought  of  its  generation 
fitted  the  following  one  to  carry  thought  into 
action. 

Diderot  —  the  son  of  a  blacksmith,  himself  a 
smith  in  the  workshop  of  thought,  who  amid 
much  din  and  confusion  forged,  with  his  comrades, 


FRANCE  BEFORE   THE  REVOLUTION.     127 

those  destructive  weapons  afterwards  wielded  by 
the  Constituent  Assembly  —  was,*  along  with 
D'Alembert,  the  directing  spirit  of  the  "  Ency- 
clopedic" The  former  bold  and  impetuous  as 
the  latter  was  discreet,  they  succeeded,  between 
the  years  175 1  and  1760,  in  spite  of  Papal  denun- 
ciations, legal  decrees,  and  State  prisons,  in  com- 
pleting this  engine  for  the  destruction  of  feudal 
institutions  and  theological  tenets,  and  for  the 
propounding  of  their  own  systems  of  nature  and 
society.  To  free  men  from  the  bondage  of 
authority  in  religion  and  philosophy,  to  substi- 
tute for  superstitious  terror  a  faith  in  human 
reason  and  virtue,  to  transform  regret  for  a  lost 
Paradise  to  quenchless  belief  in  the  perfectibility 
of  the  race,  was  the  prominent  teaching  of  their 
school.  Some  of  these  men  called  themselves 
Deists,  some  Pyrrhonists,  some  Atheists  ;  but,  in 
spite  of  clashing  divergencies  of  opinion,  they  all 
worshipped  at  one  common  shrine,  —  that  of  Pro- 
gress. The  fact  is  that  a  social  rather  than  a 
philosophical  idea  lay  at  the  root  of  their  work, 
and  that  in  their  efforts  to  rid  their  country  of 
the  incubus  of  superstition  they  also  tore  away 
some  of  that  transmitted  inheritance  of  religious 
thought  around  which  cluster  the  most  sensitive 
fibres  of  the  mind.  Helvetius  and  D'Holbach, 
in  the  crude  and  dogmatic  exposition  of  Mate- 
rialism elaborated  in  "  De  l'Esprit "  and  the  "  Sys- 


128  MADAME  ROLAND. 

teme  de  la  Nature,"  became  the  exponents  of  the 
Necessitarian  doctrine,  reducing  the  universe  to 
a  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms,  and  man  to  an 
animated  machine. 

Apart  and  companionless,  "  a  love  in  desolation 
masked,  a  power  girt  round  with  weakness,"  there 
came  he  who  appeared  in  the  eighteenth  century 
like  one  crying  in  the  wilderness.  The  most 
paradoxical  and  enigmatic  figure  in  literary  his- 
tory, he  preached  the  purification  of  morals  while 
tainted  with  the  corruption  of  his  age,  and  com- 
posed a  lofty  theory  of  education  after  depositing 
his  children  in  the  Foundlings'  Hospital.  Jean 
Jacques  Rousseau  possessed,  perhaps  above  all 
writers,  the  magnetism  of  genius  ;  and  Madame 
Roland  is  an  instance  of  the  paramount  influence 
he  exercised  on  the  generation  which  succeeded 
his.  A  child  of  the  people,  a  vagabond  of  the 
highways,  a  citizen  of  Geneva,  he  naturally  ap- 
proached the  problems  of  his  time  by  a  road 
different  from  that  of  his  compeers.  As  we  have 
seen,  it  was  his  inextinguishable  hatred  of  the 
oppression  of  the  poor  that  turned  his  thoughts 
to  politics  ;  and  if  in  the  "  Contrat  Social "  he 
seems  to  reason  too  much  from  general  a  priori 
principles,  it  must  be  remembered  that  as  a  native 
of  Switzerland  he  had  had  experience  of  a  form 
of  government  which  gave"  to  part  of  his  theories 
a  solid  basis  of  fact.     His  definition  of  the  State 


FRANCE  BEFORE   THE  REVOLUTION.     1 29 

as  the  social  compact  of  all  its  members,  who, 
constituting  what  he  calls  the  sovereign,  annually 
elect  in  their  entirety  the  prince  or  executive 
power,  has  become  proverbial.  This  single  axiom, 
from  which  the  correlative  notions  of  the  Rights 
of  Man  —  Liberty,  Fraternity,  and  Equality  —  are 
natural  outcomes,  became  the  lever  which  helped 
to  set  the  vast  forces  of  the  Revolution  in  motion, 
as  well  as  the  lodestar  of  its  reconstructive  ten- 
dencies. Rousseau's  leading  conception  is,  that 
Might  is  not  Right,  and  that  although  the  power 
of  the  strong  may  enable  him  to  frame  laws 
which  force  the  weak  to  obey  him,  the  moment 
the  weak  becomes  strong  enough  to  refuse  he  is 
justified  in  doing  so.  Justice,  and  not  expediency, 
is  the  watchword  of  his  political  creed,  — a  creed 
in  striking  contrast  to  Thomas  Carlyle's  equally 
strenuous  teaching  that  Might  is  Right.  Certainly 
we  bred  up  in  the  Darwinian  era  ;  we  who  have 
felt  the  full  significance  of  that  modern  Shibboleth, 
u  the  struggle  for  existence  ; "  we  who  have  ached 
in  dull  despair  at  this  grim  law  of  life  with  which 
Nature,  "  red  in  tooth  and  claw,"  proclaims  that 
Might  is  Right, —  we  cannot  help  smiling  at 
Rousseau's  rose-colored  visions  of  a  primitive 
state  of  Nature,  wherein  the  leopard  was  supposed 
to  have  lain  down  with  the  kid,  and  to  which 
society  was  exhorted  to  return.  Yet  though  we 
must  admit  many  of  his  premises  to  be  false  and 

9 


130  MADAME  ROLAND. 

many  of  his  arguments  shallow,  his  conclusion  is 
nevertheless  in  harmony  with  the  highest  concep- 
tion of  justice,  —  justice  which,  like  music,  has 
its  origin  in  the  soul  of  man  only;  the  most 
purely  human  of  the  virtues,  and  which  is  the 
goal  towards  which  society  is  slowly  and  painfully 
working  its  way. 

Another  of  Rousseau's  axioms  in  the  "  Contrat 
Social,"  —  and  one  which  must  be  noticed  in 
passing  as  connected  with  the  land  question, 
now  of  such  paramount  interest,  —  is  the  asser- 
tion that  "  the  State,  as  regards  its  members,  is 
the  master  of  all  possessions  by  reason  of  the 
social  contract,  which  is  the  basis  also  of  all  their 
rights.  As  a  rule,"  he  says,  "  to  legalize  the 
rights  of  the  first  occupier  of  any  lands,  the  fol- 
lowing conditions  are  necessary  :  first,  that  this 
land  should  never  before  have  been  occupied ; 
secondly,  that  he  should  only  occupy  the  amount 
requisite  for  subsistence ;  thirdly,  that  he  should 
take  possession,  not  by  a  vain  ceremony,  but  by 
labor  and  cultivation,  —  sole  indication  of  owner- 
ship which,  in  default  of  legal  titles,  deserves  the 
recognition  of  others." 

Unconnected  with  the  Encyclopaedists  and  un- 
noticed by  Rousseau,  there  were  two  men  who, 
without  exciting  much  attention,  were  then  elabo- 
rating a  system  of  pure  Socialism.  Morellet,  in 
his  "  Code  de  la  Nature,"  preached  community 


FRANCE  BEFORE   THE  REVOLUTION.     131 

in  property,  capital,  dwelling-houses,  and  all 
requisite  tools  for  labor;  State  education,  and 
the  distribution  of  work  among  members  of  a 
community  according  to  their  strength,  and  of 
the  means  of  subsistence  according  to  their 
wants.  The  government  of  the  State  was  to  be 
modelled  in  all  respects  on  that  of  the  family, 
whose  members,  though  unequally  endowed  with 
physical  and  mental  strength,  share  the  income 
in  common.  Mably,  a  financier  and  man  of  the 
world,  deeply  versed  in  affairs,  adopted  these 
views  with  enthusiasm,  in  spite  of  their  apparent 
unpractical  Utopianism. 

The  school  of  Economists  and  Physiocrats,  as 
they  were  called,  had  in  some  respects  a  more 
immediate  influence  on  the  politics  of  the  Revo- 
lution. The  main  point  of  Quesnay,  the  head  of 
the  school,  seems  to  have  been  identical  with 
Mr.  George's  proposition,  —  "that  all  taxation 
should  be  abolished,  save  a  tax  upon  the  value  of 
land."  Turgot,  in  some  respects  a  disciple  of 
Quesnay,  succeeded  in  introducing  during  his 
ministry  (he  became  Controller-General  in  1774, 
after  the  accession  of  Louis  XVI.  to  the  throne) 
some  economic  reforms  into  the  French  Admin- 
istration, as  well  as  in  abolishing  some  of  the 
most  scandalous  abuses.  He  removed,  among 
other  oppressive  forms  of  taxation,  that  most  in- 
famous of  all,  the  Corvfa ;  he  suppressed  exclu- 


132  MADAME  ROLAND. 

sive  industrial  corporations  or  trade-guilds,  whose 
restrictions  and  monopolies  had  been  one  of  the 
many  fatal  obstacles  to  the  trade  of  the  country. 
This  last  reform  was  hailed  in  Paris  with  trans- 
ports of  delight.  The  working-men  left  their  old 
masters  in  crowds,  and  celebrated  their  emanci- 
pation from  the  bondage  of  the  trade-guilds. 
After  repealing  some  of  the  most  pernicious  laws 
affecting  the  circulation  of  wine  and  corn  in  the 
country,  Turgot  shifted  some  part  of  the  imposts 
on  to  the  shoulders  of  the  privileged  classes. 
These  changes,  and  the  prospect  of  still  more 
daring  ones  in  contemplation,  —  such  as  the  in- 
troduction of  a  new  territorial  contribution, — 
aroused  the  animosity  of  the  rich  and  powerful. 
Unfortunately,  Turgot  had  failed  to  conciliate 
the  partisanship  of  the  popular  party  by  his  op- 
position to  the  convocation  of  the  States-General, 
which  was  then  its  unanimous  cry.  His  position 
having  thus  become  precarious,  Marie  Antoinette 
procured  his  dismissal,  and  would,  if  possible, 
have  had  him  locked  up  in  the  Bastile  for  no  bet- 
ter reason  than  that  he  had  refused  to  bestow 
certain  pensions  on  some  of  her  worthless  favor- 
ites. Had  the  nobles  and  clergy  been  gifted  with 
some  portion  of  second  sight,  they  would  have 
gone  into  mourning  on  that  day  in  May,  1776, 
the  date  of  Turgot's  fall ;  as  it  was,  they  and 
their  opponents   were  equally   jubilant.     A   few 


FRANCE  BEFORE   THE  REVOLUTION.     1 33 

thoughtful  minds  deplored  the  event ;  and  among 
others  Marie  Phlipon,  then  a  girl  of  two-and- 
twenty,  wrote  to  her  friend :  "  I  have  heard  this 
evening  of  the  resignation  of  M.  Turgot ;  it  vexed 
and  stunned  me.  One  of  his  financial  measures 
has  acted  hurtfully  on  my  father's  affairs,  and 
therefore  on  mine  also ;  but  it  is  not  by  private 
interests  that  I  judge  him.  He  was  so  well 
thought  of,  so  much  was  expected  of  his  exten- 
sive views ! "  From  his  retirement  at  Ferney 
came  Voltaire's  cry,  "  I  am  as  one  dashed  to  the 
ground  ;  never  can  we  console  ourselves  for  hav- 
ing seen  the  golden  age  dawn  and  vanish.  My 
eyes  see  only  death  in  front  of  me,  now  that  Tur- 
got is  gone.  The  rest  of  my  days  must  be  all 
bitterness." 

Two  years  later,  in  1778,  both  Voltaire  and 
Rousseau  died  within  a  few  months  of  each 
other;  and  the  revolution  which  they  had  in- 
augurated in  the  spirit  took  bodily  form,  and 
entered  on  the  stormy  scene  of  action  in  the 
volcanic  Mirabeau,  the  noble  Madame  Roland, 
the  inexorable  Robespierre. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE    RIGHTS    OF    MAN. 

Let  us  return  to  Madame  Roland,  who  from  her 
solitude  in  the  Beaujolais  followed  with  breath- 
less interest  the  course  of  events,  —  the  installa- 
tion of  Necker  in  Turgot's  place ;  the  convocation 
of  the  Notables  ;  the  ineffectual  efforts  made  to 
extricate  the  nation  from  its  desperate  financial 
position,  — and  who  rejoiced  not  a  little  when  the 
Government,  having  exhausted  all  its  resources, 
felt  driven  at  last  to  assemble  the  representa- 
tives of  the  nation,  or  States-General,  which  had 
not  met  since  the  year  1614.  The  winter  of 
1788-89  resounded  with  the  noise  and  excite- 
ment of  these  elections.  France  was  in  a  fer- 
ment, as  if  the  assembly  of  those  States  would  be 
a  cure  for  all  the  ills  of  the  people. 

The  rapidity  of  events  henceforth  worked  with 
the  inevitable  momentum  of  elemental  forces. 
The  elasticity  of  time  was  never  so  apparent 
in  history,  —  when  days  became  equivalent  to 
months,  months  to  years,  years  to  centuries. 
That  the  Court  and  nobility  did  not  calmly  view 
these   changes,  that  they  tried  their   utmost  to 


THE  RIGHTS  OF  MAN.  135 

retard  them,  may  well  be  believed ;  but  their  pres- 
tige having  once  departed  from  them,  they  resem- 
bled that  magician  who,  having  forfeited  the 
charm,  could  no  longer  lay  the  spirits  he  had 
raised.  For  the  French  Guards  in  those  memor- 
able days  disobeyed  orders,  broke  open  their 
barracks,  and  marched  through  the  capital  cry- 
ing, u  Vive  le  Tiers  Etat !  We  are  the  soldiers 
of  the  nation." 

After  this  defection  of  the  army,  the  Royalists 
found  nothing  wiser  to  do  than  the  dismissal  and 
exile  of  Necker.  Lafayette's  message  to  him 
was:  "If  you  are  dismissed,  thirty  thousand 
Parisians  will  bring  you  back  to  Versailles." 
Round  the  news-shops,  —  whence  poured  a  very 
flood  of  papers  and  pamphlets,  —  in  the  cafes 
and  public  places,  crowds  of  men  formed  and 
dispersed  and  formed  again,  who  all  at  once 
flashed  into  lightning-like  action  at  the  cry  "  To 
arms  !  to  arms ! "  uttered  by  the  young  Camille 
Desmoulins,  whom  we  might  call  the  Gallic  cock 
of  the  Revolution.  It  was  then  that  the  people 
in  a  sublime  rage  battered  down  the  massive 
doors  of  the  Bastile,  and  with  tears  of  joy  gave 
liberty  to  its  prisoners ;  it  was  then  that  the 
National  Assembly,  kindling  with  the  passion  of 
humanity,  abolished  in  one  night  —  the  sacred 
night  of  the  4th  of  August  —  the  legalized 
wrongs    of    centuries.      "  Let    those     titles    be 


136  MADAME  ROLAND. 

brought  to  us,"  cried  one  representative,*"  which 
are  an  outrage  to  delicacy,  an  insult  to  humanity, 
—  titles  which  force  men  to  harness  themselves 
to  carts  like  beasts  of  burden  !  Let  those  char- 
ters be  brought  to  us  in  virtue  of  which  men 
have  passed  long  nights  in  beating  the  pools,  so 
that  their  frogs  might  not  trouble  the  slumbers 
of  a  voluptuous  seigneur !  "  A  torrent  of  gener- 
ous emotion  swept  over  the  assembled  deputies : 
nobles,  priests,  dignitaries  of  the  law  and  muni- 
cipalities, all  parties  seemed  carried  away  on  that 
irresistible  current.  The  feudal  system,  with  all 
its  iniquitous  rights,  was  abolished  in  fewer  hours 
than  it  had  lasted  centuries. 

The  Declaration  of  the  Rights  of  Man  was  the 
first  reconstructive  act  of  the  National  Assembly, 
which  declared  the  following  principles  to  be  the 
basis  of  the  new  government :  — 

Men  are  born,  and  always  continue,  free  and  equal  in 
rights.  All  sovereignty  emanates  from  the  nation,  and 
should  be  wielded  for  its  welfare.  The  will  of  the  people 
makes  the  laws  and  enforces  them  by  public  authority. 
The  voting  of  taxes  belongs  to  the  nation  as  a  whole.  Il- 
legal arrests  and  depositions  without  trial  by  jury  are 
abolished.  All  citizens,  without  distinction,  are  eligible  for 
public  offices.  The  natural,  civil,  and  religious  liberty  of 
men,  and  their  absolute  independence  of  all  authority  save 
that  of  the  law,  forbid  any  inquiries  into  their  opinions, 
speeches,  and  writings,  as  long  as  they  do  not  disturb 
order*  or  interfere  with  the  rights  of  others. 


THE  RIGHTS  OF  MAN.  1 37 

This  Declaration  of  Rights  was  adopted  on  the 
26th  of  August,  and  its  principles  were  to  be  em- 
bodied in  the  Constitution  which  it  was  the  main 
business  of  this  Assembly  to  frame. 

A  combination  of  three  men,  by  no  means 
united  among  themselves,  dominated  the  Rev- 
olution at  this  the  first  stage  of  its  progress : 
Necker  —  the  popular  minister,  at  one  moment 
idolized  of  the  people,  and  within  a  few  months 
after  his  triumphal  return  to  Paris  forced  to 
leave  it  secretly  with  his  wife,  a  disgraced  and 
heart-broken  man;  the  chivalrous  Lafayette  — 
who  had  won  golden  opinions  by  fighting  in  the 
American  War  of  Independence,  made  Comman- 
der-General of  the  National  Guards  in  1789  ;  and 
Mirabeau  —  another  Samson,  to  whose  colossal 
strength  alone  it  seemed  given  to  curb  the  un- 
loosed forces  of  the  Revolution.  Unfortunately 
he  also  had  his  vulnerable  point,  —  the  Delilah 
who  shore  him  of  his  strength  being  the  Queen, 
by  whom  he  was  bribed. 

Under  such  guidance,  while  many  startling  yet 
salutary  changes,  impossible  to  enumerate  here, 
were  taking  place  in  France  ;  while  the  pusillani- 
mous nobles  fled  pell-mell  across  the  frontiers  ; 
while  the  vacillating  King,  professing  adhesion  to 
the  Constitution,  was  secretly  conspiring  with  for- 
eign potentates,  —  Madame  Roland  was  writing 
to  Bosc  letters  palpitating  with  hope,  fear,  and 


138  MADAME  ROLAND. 

enthusiasm.  "  Who  is  the  traitor,"  she  cries, 
"  who  at  this  moment  minds  any  business  but 
that  of  the  nation  ? "   In  August,  1789,  she  says  : 

11  I  believe  that  the  honest  Englishman  is  in  the  right, 
and  that  we  must  have  a  small  touch  of  civil  war  before  we 
are  good  for  anything.  All  those  little  quarrels  and  insur- 
rections of  the  people  seem  to  me  inevitable  ;  nor  do  I  think 
it  possible  to  rise  to  liberty  from  the  midst  of  corruption 
without  strong  convulsions:  they  are  the  salutary  crises  of 
a  serious  disease.  We  are  in  want  of  a  terrible  political 
fever  to  carry  off  our  foul  humors.  Go  on  and  prosper  then  ! 
let  our  rights  be  declared ;  let  them  be  submitted  to  our 
consideration ;  and  let  the  Constitution  come  afterwards  !  " 

And  again,  on  the  4th  of  September,  — 

"Your  kind  letter  brought  us  very  bad  news;  we  roared 
on  hearing  it,  and  on  reading  the  public  papers.  They  are 
going  to  patch  us  up  a  bad  Constitution,  in  like  manner  as 
they  garbled  our  faulty  and  incomplete  Declaration  of  Rights. 
Shall  I  never,  then,  see  a  petition  demanding  the  revision 
of  the  whole  ?  Every  day  we  see  addresses  of  adhesion,  and 
other  things  of  that  sort,  which  bespeak  our  infancy  and 
confirm  our  shame.  It  behooves  you  Parisians  to  set  the 
example  in  everything;  let  a  temperate  but  vigorous  peti- 
tion show  to  the  Assembly  that  you  know  your  rights,  that 
you  are  determined  to  preserve  them,  that  you  are  ready 
to  defend  them,  and  that  you  insist  on  their  being  acknowl- 
edged. It  is  not  at  the  Palais  Royal  that  this  should  be 
done,  —  the  united  districts  ought  to  act;  but  if  they  are 
not  so  inclined,  it  should  be  done  by  any  set  of  men,  pro- 
vided they  be  in  sufficient  number  to  command  respect  and 
to  lead  on  others  by  their  example.  I  preach  to  as  many 
oeoule  as  I  can.     A  surgeon  and  a  village  curate  have  sub- 


THE  RIGHTS  OF  MAN.  1 39 

scribed  for  Brissot's  journal,  which  we  have  taught  them 
to  relish  ;  but  our  little  country  towns  are  too  corrupt,  and 
our  peasantry  too  ignorant.  Villefranche  overflows  with 
aristocrats^  people  risen  from  the  dust,  which  they  think  they 
shake  off  by  affecting  the  prejudice  of  another  class.  ..." 

The  question  which  was  then  agitating  the 
whole  country  was  that  of  the  Royal  veto.  By 
giving  back  into  the  hands  of  the  King  the  power 
of  negativing  the  decisions  of  the  Assembly,  the 
nation  seemed  to  abdicate  the  power  of  self-gov- 
ernment which  it  had  only  just  conquered.  Fierce 
and  prolonged  were  the  debates  in  the  House  ; 
intense  the  excitement  without.  The  districts 
began  to  assemble,  as  Madame  Roland  had  ad- 
vised, and  to  present  petitions  to  the  Commune. 

But  while  in  the  Assembly  members  were  volu- 
bly discussing  the  new  Constitution,  while  the 
Queen  at  the  famous  banquet  to  the  Swiss  and 
other  regiments  attempted  her  one  supreme  effort 
at  fascination,  other  forces  were  at  work,  —  forces 
soon  to  become  more  potent  than  either  Throne 
or  Assembly. 

After  the  14th  of  July,  when  the  National 
Guard  had  been  levied  in  the  different  districts 
of  Paris,  a  reorganization  also  took  place  in  the 
municipalities  of  the  capital.  Each  district  elected 
two  members,  so  that  the  Town  Council  consisted 
of  one  hundred  and  twenty  members,  who  took 
possession  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  under  the  name 


140  MADAME  ROLAND. 

of  Representatives  of  the  Commune  of  Paris. 
This  Commune,  destined  to  play  so  leading  a 
part  in  the  future  of  the  Revolution,  gradually 
increasing  in  number,  came  to  be  called  "  The 
Council  of  the  Three  Hundred." 

Although  the  reform  of  abuses  went  on  steadily 
enough,  it  was  impossible  to  eradicate  in  a  few 
months  the  rooted  evils  of  centuries.  While  the 
new  Constitution  was  being  elaborated,  the  country, 
badly-farmed  as  it  was,  did  not  grow  more  produc- 
tive than  of  yore ;  corn  was  as  scarce,  bread 
remained  dear,  and  trade  was  naturally  more  than 
ever  depressed.  Madame  Roland  remarks  in  her 
Memoirs  how  at  Lyons  twenty  thousand  artisans 
had  been  in  want  of  bread  during  the  first  winter 
of  the  Revolution.  In  Paris,  to  which  the  needy, 
the  outcast,  and  the  miserable  gravitated  as  to  a 
common  abyss,  the  muffled  moan  of  the  homeless 
and  hungry  accompanied  the  deliberations  of  the 
legislators. 

Side  by  side  with  the  noble  efforts  of  brave  and 
earnest  men,  were  also  at  work  appetites  and  pas- 
sions whose  sinister  power  hurried  on  the  men 
who  appeared  to  be  guiding  the  State  vessel.  And 
could  it  be  otherwise,  considering  the  previous 
national  conditions  ?  Could  these  men  and  women 
who  had  so  long  borne  the  bitterest  yoke,  who 
had  been  accustomed  to  the  spectacle  of  the  most 
ferocious   punishments,  when   suddenly  untram- 


THE  RIGHTS  OF  MAN.  141 

melled,  act  with  perfect  clemency,  moderation,  or 
humanity  ?  Had  they,  indeed,  done  so,  it  would 
have  gone  far  to  prove  that  the  evils  of  slavery 
have  been  grossly  exaggerated.  So  far,  however, 
from  the  excesses  of  the  populace  —  at  least,  in 
the  first  years  of  the  Revolution  —  being  a  sur- 
prise to  us,  it  should  more  properly  be  a  surprise 
that,  as  a  rule,  they  evinced  as  much  good-feeling 
and  tolerance  as  they  did  ! 

Yes,  feudal  privileges  had  been  abolished  and 
good  laws  passed,  but  the  populace  of  Paris  was 
as  hungry  as  before,  —  if  possible,  a  good  deal 
hungrier ;  and  so  it  came  to  pass  that  a  formida- 
ble body  of  women  marched  to  Versailles  on  that 
memorable  5th  of  October,  when  they  appeared 
below  the  King's  palace,  and  brought  him,  Marie 
Antoinette,  and  the  Dauphin  triumphantly  back 
with  them  to  Paris. 

This  spontaneous  bringing  back  by  the  mob  of 
the  Royal  Family  to  the  Tuileries,  there  to  live 
under  their  own  eye,  was  probably  due  to  the 
growing  suspicion  of  underhand  plotting.  But  in 
spite  of  rumors,  alarms,  and  political  panics,  the 
majority  of  the  people  of  Paris,  as  well  as  of 
the  Representatives,  were  monarchical ;  and  had 
the  King  given  his  sincere  adhesion  to  the  recon- 
struction of  the  Government,  there  are  many  indi- 
cations that  the  final  crash  of  the  Throne  might 
have  been  averted.     If  we  are  to  believe  Camille 


142  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Desmoulins,  there  were  not  a  score  of  Repub- 
licans in  France  at  the  first  meeting  of  the 
States-General.  However,  it  seems  useless  to 
speculate  on  the  might-have-beens  of  history. 
Madame  Roland  herself  never  entertained  any 
illusions.  Very  early  she  perceived  the  inter- 
ests of  the  Royalist  and  popular  party  to  be  dia- 
metrically opposed  to  each  other,  and  in  the 
summer  of  1789  she  wrote  with  her  unflinching 
judgment :  — 

"  You  busy  yourselves  about  a  municipality  and  you 
suffer  heads  to  escape  which  are  about  to  conjure  up  new 
horrors.  You  are  nothing  but  children ;  your  enthusiasm 
is  a  momentary  blaze  ;  and  if  the  National  Assembly  do 
not  bring  two  illustrious  heads  to  a  formal  trial,  or  if  some 
generous  Decrees  do  not  strike  them  off,  you  will  all  go 
to  the  Devil  together." 

If  there  is  a  fierce  ring  in  these  words,  she,  on 
another  occasion,  says :  "  I  weep  over  the  blood 
that  has  been  spilt ;  one  cannot  be  too  chary  of 
that  of  human  beings."  But,  terrified  at  the  dan- 
gers which  menace  the  new-born  freedom  of  her 
country,  she  adds  the  warning:  "The  philosopher 
shuts  his  eyes  to  the  errors  or  weaknesses  of  pri- 
vate men  ;  but  even  to  his  father  he  should  show 
no  mercy  where  the  public  weal  is  at  stake." 

The  burning  missives  addressed  by  Madame 
Roland  to  Bosc  and  other  political  friends  were 
widely  circulated ;   the  greater  portion  of   them, 


THE  RIGHTS  OF  MAN.  143 

without  the  author's  name,  found  their  way  into 
the  public  press.  They  chiefly  appeared  in  the 
"  Patriote  Francais,"  edited  by  Brissot,  then  one  of 
the  leading  members  of  the  Commune  of  Paris. 
As  yet  personally  unacquainted  with  the  Rolands, 
he  had,  attracted  by  the  articles  in  the  "  New 
Encyclopaedia,"  been  for  some  time  in  correspon- 
dence with  them. 

Brissot  de  Warville — afterwards  the  leader  of 
the  Girondins  —  was  born  at  Chartres  in  1754. 
A  disciple  of  Plutarch  and  Rousseau,  he  had 
gravitated  to  Paris,  and  by  a  strange  coincidence 
had  been  fellow-clerk  with  Robespierre  in  a 
notary's  office.  A  rapid  and  discursive  writer, 
who  could  dash  off  a  political  treatise  as  others 
would  a  letter,  he  was  preoccupied  from  the  be- 
ginning of  his  career  with  questions  of  public 
interest,  to  the  detriment  of  his  own.  Perpetually 
flitting  from  France  to  Switzerland,  from  Switzer- 
land to  England,  from  England  to  America,  he 
had  had  better  opportunities  than  most  of  the 
French  patriots  of  studying  the  workings  of  differ- 
ent systems  of  government,  so  as  to  be  able  to 
institute  a  comparison  between  them.  "  The 
English  Constitution,  which  I  had  studied  on 
the  spot,"  says  Brissot  in  his  Memoirs,  "  seemed 
to  me,  in  spite  of  its  defects,  well  adapted  to 
serve  as  a  model  to  societies  desirous  of  changing 
their  system."     Republican  at  heart,  Brissot  was 


144  MADAME  ROLAND. 

no  advocate  for  the  Republic  in  the  early  days  of 
the  Revolution ;  for  he  believed  in  a  gradual 
transition  from  the  old  order  to  the  new,  and 
wished  that  on  its  completion  the  Constitution 
should  be  given  a  fair  trial  by  the  nation. 

Madame  Roland,  who  first  made  his  personal 
acquaintance  in  the  winter  of  1791,  hits  off  his 
character  in  these  telling  lines:  "He  knew  man 
but  not  men  ;  was  meant  to  live  with  sages,  and 
to  be  the  dupe  of  rogues."  Such  a  dupe  he  had 
time  after  time  been  made,  as,  for  example,  during 
his  literary  connection  with  such  vile  offscourings 
of  journalism  as  Morande,  Lointon,  and  Latour, 
the  editor  of  the  "Courrier  de  1' Europe."  This 
facility  of  being  hoodwinked  by  designing  men 
afterwards  furnished  a  fatal  instrument  of  attack 
to  his  political  opponents.  "  What  a  pleasant 
intriguer  is  that  man,"  says  Madame  Roland, 
"  who  never  considers  himself  nor  his  family, 
who  is  as  incapable  as  he  is  averse  to  occupy 
himself  with  his  private  interests,  and  who  is  no 
more  ashamed  of  poverty  than  afraid  of  death." 
This  disinterestedness  of  character  kept  him  in 
a  state  of  chronic  impecuniosity,  in  spite  of  his 
great  facility  as  a  writer.  Brissot  composed 
whole  chapters  of  those  works  hurled  like  thunder- 
bolts from  the  Jove-like  hand  of  Mirabeau ;  he 
attempted  to  form  an  International  College  in 
London,  with  the  object  of  establishing  a  bond 


THE  RIGHTS  OF  MAN.  145 

of  union  between  the  literary  and  scientific  men 
of  Europe,  and  in  such  works  as  the  "  Theory  of 
Criminal  Laws  "  he  advocated  the  mitigation  of 
punishments  ;  but  never  did  he  reap  any  reward 
from  his  many  well-intentioned  efforts.  One  re- 
ward only,  and  that  worthy  his  humane  character, 
was  awarded  him.  Into  his  hands,  to  his  immor- 
tal honor  be  it  said,  the  people  gave  the  keys  of 
the  Bastile.  Thenceforth  Brissot's  best  energies 
were  spent  in  disseminating  his  political  principles 
through  the  "  Patriote  Francais." 

In  the  mean  time  signs  and  portents  did  not 
bode  speedy  subsidence  of  the  high-wrought 
waves  of  political  passion.  The  French  people 
resembled  a  captive,  who,  after  languishing  a  life- 
time in  the  clammy  darkness  of  a  dungeon,  is 
too  suddenly  liberated,  and  dazed  with  the  pleni- 
tude of  light  and  air,  staggers  as  one  intoxicated. 
Violent  reprisals  for  the  past,  conspiracies  and 
rumors  of  conspiracies,  pangs  of  hunger  and 
want,  drove  the  artisans  in  towns,  the  peasants 
in  the  country,  to  deeds  of  arson  and  bloodshed. 

Woe  to  the  Seigneurs  who  had  so  unmercifully 
drained  the  tillers  of  the  soil ;  woe  to  the  Tax- 
farmers  who  had  sent  the  laborers  to  the  galley 
and  to  the  hangman  for  defrauding  the  revenue 
of  some  pennyworths  of  salt ;  woe  to  the  Reg-ra- 
ters who  had  greedily  stored  up  vast  quantities  of 
grain  to  sell  it  at  famine  prices  to  the  starving 
10 


146  MADAME  ROLAND. 

poor !  The  hour  of  retribution  had  struck.  In 
the  livid  smoke  of  burning  chateaux  and  flaming 
mansions,  the  Eumenides  seemed  to  pursue  the 
territorial  lords  as  they  fled  in  disguise  across 
the  frontier  from  an  infuriated  peasantry. 

The  moderate  Constitutionalists,  shocked  at 
these  excesses,  concocted  a  new  martial  law, 
which  they  hoped  would  serve  as  a  dyke  where- 
with to  stem  the  steadily-rising  tide  of  the  Revo- 
lution,—  as  vainly,  however,  as  he  who  should 
bid  the  roaring  sea  turn  its  flow. 


CHAPTER  X. 

MADAME   ROLAND   REVEALS    HERSELF. 

The  year  1790  brought  with  it  a  promise  of  con- 
ciliation and  concord.  Not  in  France  only  were 
the  best  natures  full  of  faith  in  the  future,  but 
all  over  Europe  the  hearts  of  men  turned  with 
yearning  expectation  towards  the  land  where 
mankind  seemed  taking  a  fresh  start  in  its  de- 
velopment. In  England,  above  all,  the  sympathy 
with  the  French  people  was  widely  diffused. 
The  same  generous  enthusiasm  prevailed  which 
blazed  forth  in  i860  on  the  liberation  of  Italy  by 
Garibaldi.  Something  deeper  still,  for,  as  Words- 
worth wrote,  — 

u  Bliss  was  it  in  that  dawn  to  be  alive, 
But  to  be  young  was  very  heaven  !     Oh  times, 
In  which  the  meagre,  stale,  forbidding  ways 
Of  custom,  law,  and  statute,  took  at  once 
The  attraction  of  a  country  in  Romance  !" 

Wordsworth,  in  those  days  drawn  across  the 
Channel,  nourished  such  glorious  visions  of  the 
coming  change  that  the  reaction  from  them  over- 
clouded his  mind  for  years,  and  threw  him  —  as, 


148  MADAME  ROLAND. 

indeed,  it  did  half  that  generation  —  into  the  op- 
posite ranks  of  reaction.  Coleridge,  the  future 
leader  of  nineteenth-century  Toryism,  dreamed 
of  establishing  a  Pantisocracy  on  the  banks  of 
the  Susquehannah  ;  Godwin,  not  yet "  fallen  on 
evil  days,"  incorporated  the  principles  of  the 
Revolution  in  his  "  Political  Justice."  Fox  hailed 
the  storming  of  the  Bastile  by  the  Parisians  as 
the  greatest  event  in  history.  If  such  were  the 
feelings  of  Englishmen,  what  was  the  thrill  of 
expectation  in  those  countries  adjoining  France, 
still  sorely  pressed  down  by  the  shackles  of 
Feudalism  ! 

In  France  itself,  where  all  artificial  barriers 
obstructing  the  free  intercourse  of  province  with 
province  had  been  abolished  ;  where  the  taxes 
had  been  equitably  distributed  ;  where  the  di- 
vision of  the  kingdom  into  districts  was  the  basis 
of  a  system  of  electoral  franchise  approximately 
proportioned  to  population  ;  where  the  suppres- 
sion of  monasteries,  the  sale  of  Church  property, 
and  the  abolition  of  feudal  rents  not  only  threw 
an  enormous  quantity  of  land  into  the  market,  but 
by  relieving  the  small  proprietors  from  the  pres- 
sure of  innumerable  trammels  infused  the  vigor 
of  a  new  life  into  agriculture,  —  in  France  itself, 
in  spite  of  the  vindictive  plotting  of  emigrants 
and  the  smouldering  rage  of  the  clergy,  there 
was  a  buoyant  hope  that  the  Constitution  once 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.   149 

established,  the  regeneration  of  the  country 
might  be  peaceably  consummated.  Had  not  the 
King  unexpectedly  gone  to  the  Assembly,  ex- 
pressed adhesion  to  the  new  Constitution,  ex- 
horted them  all  to  follow  his  example,  taken 
the  civic  oath ;  and  was  not  all  France  likewise 
about  to  swear  it  in  a  rapture  of  enthusiasm  ? 

And  now  in  this  spring  of  1790  a  spontaneous 
movement,  originating  in  the  heart  of  the  people 
itself,  swept  the  surface  of  national  life  with  its 
quickening  vernal  breath.  The  conception  of  no 
single  mind  nor  the  watchword  of  a  party,  the 
sense  of  this  common  national  revival  imparted 
the  same  impulse  to  the  inhabitants  of  distant 
provinces.  To  consecrate  the  bond  of  brotherly 
union,  to  seal  their  fidelity  to  the  new  Order,  to 
vow  mutual  assistance  in  danger  or  distress,  was 
the  motive  of  these  fraternal  Feasts,  which  sent 
forth  holiday-making  crowds  on  joyful  pilgrimages 
to  the  altars  of  the  Federation.  From  Brest  to 
Bordeaux,  along  the  heaths  of  desolate  Brittany 
and  through  the  rich  Norman  pastures,  over  the 
rolling  hills  and  mountainous  fastnesses  of  pictu- 
resque Limousin,  by  the  sounding  shores  of  the 
Bay  of  Biscay,  amid  the  orange-scented  groves  of 
Provence,  the  people  were  marching,  with  wav- 
ing banners,  to  the  strains  of  the  Ca  Ira,  and 
converging  to  centres  of  meeting  in  the  provin- 
cial capitals. 


150  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Before  the  sunrise  of  May  30,  in  the  dewy 
freshness  of  morning,  patriotic  crowds  were  pour- 
ing through  the  gates  of  Lyons.  As  many  as 
fifty  or  sixty  thousand  Federates,  and  two  hun- 
dred thousand  people  in  all,  took  their  way 
through  the  plain  bordering  the  shores  of  the 
blue  winding  Rhone,  towards  the  Altar  of  Con- 
cord, where  a  colossal  statue  of  Liberty  rose 
through  the  silvery  morning  mists.  Amid  that 
moving  throng  of  men  with  their  waving  flags, 
of  women  and  girls  festively  clad,  bearing  palm- 
branches  and  crowned  with  flowers,  there  went 
one,  radiant  and  resolute,  stepping  out  like  a 
goddess  of  old,  herself  in  her  immaculate  strength 
and  purity  the  living  realization  of  the  liberty 
they  adored.  We  know  her,  walking  there  by 
the  side  of  the  austere  Roland,  surrounded  by  a 
small  group  of  friends  ;  but  the  Revolution  knew 
her  not  as  yet,  the  highest  of  its  heroic  hearts. 

It  knew  her  not,  though  already  it  received  her 
soul  into  its  own  in  that  stirring  narrative  of  the 
new  Covenant,  which,  anonymously  written  by 
her,  appeared  in  the  u  Courrier  de  Lyons,"  edited 
by  her  friend  Champagneux,  and  of  which  no  less 
than  sixty  thousand  copies  were  sold  on  that 
occasion.  In  the  letters  and  manifestoes  de- 
spatched from  all  parts  of  the  country  to  the 
National  Assembly,  the  spirit  which  animated 
these  festivities  shows  itself  as  a  recognition  of 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.    151 

the  natural  authority  belonging  to  old  age,  par- 
ticipation of  women  in  the  national  life,  adoption 
of  the  new-born  by  the  Communes  in  the  name 
of  France,  renunciation  of  religious  hatreds  at 
the  foot  of  the  Cross.  The  most  impressive  of 
all  those  Feasts  of  the  Federation  was  that  cele- 
brated in  Paris  itself  on  the  14th  of  July,  1790, 
the  anniversary  of  the  taking  of  the  Bastile. 

The  great  bond  of  fellowship  in  the  cause  of 
liberty  was  nowhere  more  deeply  felt  than  by  the 
Rolands.  They  devoted  themselves  to  the  propa- 
gation of  the  new  ideas,  and  conceived  the  plan 
of  an  association  of  a  few  friends  who  should  live 
together,  and  make  every  effort  to  enlighten  the 
people  as  to  the  changes  which  had  already  taken 
place  and  those  that  it  was  imperatively  necessary 
to  accomplish.  Two  of  them,  Lanthenas  and 
Bancal  des  Issarts,  intended  joining  the  Rolands 
by  putting  their  funds  in  common,  and  buying 
some  of  the  national  property  that  was  then  sell- 
ing for  comparatively  a  mere  trifle.  Lanthenas, 
an  amiable  young  doctor,  whose  acquaintance 
Roland  had  made  in  Italy,  was  deeply  attached  to 
Madame  Roland,  whose  lead  he  followed  in  all 
things  ;  embodying  her  ideas  in  newspaper  arti- 
cles, in  public  speeches,  and  by  every  other 
means  he  could  devise.  His  devotion,  no  doubt, 
made  her  more  partial  to  him  than  she  would 
otherwise  have  been ;  and  it  is  painful  to  reflect 


152  MADAME  ROLAND. 

that  the  man  whom  she  often  honored  with  the 
name  of  brother  was  the  only  one  who  proved 
untrue  to  her  in  adversity.  He  had  been  quite 
contented  with  her  friendship  as  long  as  no  one 
else  was  more  favored  than  himself ;  but  when, 
some  years  later,  he  discovered  that  others  were 
preferred,  he  not  only  turned  against  her,  but 
against  her  whole  party.  In  so  doing  poor  Lan- 
thenas saved  himself  from  sharing  the  fate  of 
his  Girondin  friends  ;  but  at  what  a  price !  His 
name  having  been  included  in  the  list  of  the  pro- 
scribed was  struck  out  by  Marat,  who  declared 
him  to  be  a  mean-spirited  creature  (pauvre  d'cs- 
frit).  Lanthenas  had  once  written,  u  When  the 
people  are  ripe  for  liberty  a  nation  is  always 
worthy  of  it."  This  foolish  phrase  turned  out 
clever  enough,  for  it  saved  his  neck  eventually. 
But  Lanthenas,  if  not  over-wise,  was  one  of  those 
useful  men  who  can  serve  a  cause  well  by  their 
zeal  and  activity  on  its  behalf.  Bancal  des 
Issarts,  a  man  of  strong,  resolute  character,  had 
thrown  up  his  profession  of  notary  in  order  to 
devote  himself  more  completely  to  the  political 
questions  of  the  day.  In  1789  he  had  been 
chosen  elector  of  Clermont-Ferrand,  and  in  the 
summer  of  1790  became  acquainted  with  the 
Rolands,  when  he  passed  a  few  days  with  them 
at  the  Clos  de  la  Platicre. 

Similarity  of  interests  and  tastes  suggested  the 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.    153 

plan  of  their  all  living  together,  and  in  view  of 
the  contemplated  association  Madame  Roland  ad- 
dressed the  following  prudent  remarks  to  Bancal : 

"  For  the  happiness  of  an  establishment  in  common, 
either  in  the  country  or  elsewhere,  it  is  not  necessary  to 
find  perfect  men,  — that  would  be  seeking  chimerical  con- 
ditions ;  but  it  is  as  necessary  to  know  each  other  well  as 
it  is  indispensable  that  we  should  tolerate  each  other. 
Every  situation  has  its  inconveniences  as  well  as  its  ad- 
vantages and  duties.  In  seeking  the  many  benefits  of  an 
association,  we  must  not  disguise  from  ourselves  that  we 
incur  obligations  in  return,  and  will  need  virtues  which 
may  be  more  easily  dispensed  with  in  solitude." 

Roland  himself  had  no  misgivings  as  to  the 
perfect  feasibility  of  the  scheme.  Bancal,  having 
paid  his  friends  another  visit  in  the  autumn  of 
that  year,  received  from  him  the  following  hearty 
letter,  which  not  only  gives  one  the  highest  idea 
of  Roland's  character,  but  also  of  that  of  his 
friends.  It  is  a  glimpse  into  an  ideal  kind  of  life. 
Roland  asks :  — 

"  What  better  can  you  do  than  join  us  ?  We  should  put 
our  lives  in  common,  and  multiply  our  pleasures,  inasmuch 
as  there  are  more  of  us  to  enjoy  them.  You  know  our 
plain,  outspoken  ways,  and  one  does  not,  at  my  age,  alter 
when  one  has  never  changed.  We  talk  every  day  of  the 
approaching  meeting,  and  the  Church  property  at  Ville- 
franche  offers  us  an  excellent  opportunity,  it  being  now  on 
sale  to  the  amount  of  two  or  three  hundred  thousand  livres  ; 
nor  need  we  despair  of  finding  a  house.  Perhaps  we  are 
building  castles  in  the  air  about  it  all;  but  what  a  pleasant 


154  MADAME  ROLAND. 

prospect !  We  will  preach  patriotism  and  enlarge  people's 
ideas ;  the  doctor  shall  carry  on  his  profession ;  my  wife 
will  be  the  apothecary  of  the  canton  ;  you  and  I  must  have 
an  eye  to  financial  matters  ;  and  we  will  all  join  in  exhort- 
ing people  to  union  and  concord.  In  doing  all  this  in  com- 
mon, we  shall  nevertheless  enjoy  complete  individual  freedom, 
convinced  that  in  order  to  inculcate  the  love  of  liberty  one 
must  be  free  oneself,  and  that  we  should  not  be  so  if  we  en- 
tered into  an  engagement  we  could  not  break  if  necessary." 

Nothing  seemed  wanting  now  to  prevent  this 
pleasant  scheme  from  being  carried  out.  Yet 
something  had  happened  during  this  last  visit  of 
Bancal  to  the  Clos  which  had  entirely  altered  the 
aspect  of  things.  It  seems  pretty  clear  that  the 
latter  —  judging  from  hints  and  allusions  in  their 
correspondence  —  had  conceived  too  warm  an  ad- 
miration for  Roland's  wife,  and  seeing  the  disparity 
of  age  between  her  and  her  husband  had,  with 
the  bias  natural  to  a  Frenchman,  indulged  in  the 
hope  of  finding  his  attachment  reciprocated.  It 
seems  equally  clear  that  Madame  Roland,  although 
shocked  at  the  discovery,  could  not  help  feeling 
flattered,  nor  avoid  a  certain  compassionate  ten- 
derness for  the  man  she  was  now  forced  to  bid 
renounce  all  idea  of  fixing  himself  in  her  neighbor- 
hood. This,  at  least,  seems  to  be  the  key  to  the 
letter  she  now  addressed  to  Bancal  after  her  hus- 
band's invitation :  — 

"  It  would  make  the  charm  of  our  lives  (this  association), 
and  we  should  not  be  useless  to  our  fellow-men.     Yet  this 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.   1 55 

comfortable  text  has  not  put  me  at  my  ease!  ...  I  am 
not  convinced  it  would  be  for  your  happiness,  and  I  should 
never  forgive  myself  for  having  troubled  it.  For  it  has 
seemed  to  me  that  you  were  inclined  to  some  extent  to 
make  it  depend  on  things  which  seem  wrong  to  me,  and 
to  nurse  hopes  which  I  must  forbid.  No  doubt  the  affec- 
tion which  unites  sincere  and  sensitive  natures  who  share 
a  common  enthusiasm  for  what  is  right  must  give  a  new 
value  to  existence  ;  no  doubt  the  virtues  which  such  an  affec- 
tion may  help  to  develop  might  turn  to  the  profit  of  society. 
.  .  .  But  who  can  foresee  the  effect  of  violent  agitations 
too  frequently  renewed  ?  .  .  .  I  mistake  ;  you  might  some- 
times be  saddened,  but  you  could  never  be  weak.  ...  It 
is  the  natural  impetuosity  of  your  sex  and  the  activity  of 
an  ardent  imagination  that  give  rise  to  these  slight  errors 
which  resemble  the  illusion  of  dreams." 

The  letter  continues  in  this  strain,  and  ends 
with  the  suggestive  remark  that  the  beautiful 
days  which  they  have  passed  together  at  the  Clos 
have  not  been  followed  by  others  ;  for  since  Bancal 
has  left,  she  says,  the  thunder  has  never  ceased 
to  growl,  its  mutterings  being  ingeniously  turned 
into  a  symbol  of  her  inner  life,  as  she  concludes : 
"  More  thunder !  How  I  like  the  grand  and  som- 
bre color  given  by  it  to  the  landscape ;  but  were 
it  terrible  instead,  I  should  not  fear  it." 

Bancal  des  Issarts,  at  any  rate,  never  went  to 
live  with  the  Rolands,  but  put  the  sea  between 
them  by  going  to  England,  where  he  remained 
for  a  considerable  period,  to  study,  it  was  said,  its 
political  institutions.     The  correspondence  in  the 


156  MADAME  ROLAND. 

mean  while  was  carried  on  briskly  enough,  and  is 
the  chief  storehouse  of  materials  for  Madame 
Roland's  life  from  the  end  of  1790  to  March,  1792, 
when  her  husband  entered  the  Ministry.  It  gradu- 
ally became  more  political  in  character,  and  two 
years  from  the  date  of  their  parting  Bancal  con- 
fided to  Madame  Roland  his  passion  for  a  Miss 
W ,  whom  M.  Dauban,  from  several  indica- 
tions, ingeniously  guesses  to  have  been  Miss 
Maria  Williams,  who  then  resided  in  Paris,  and 
mentions  Bancal  in  her  "  Recollections  of  the 
French  Revolution."  Madame  Roland,  of  whom 
this  lady  speaks  with  profound  admiration,  did 
everything  in  her  power  to  advance  her  friend's 

suit  with  Miss  W ;  but  apparently  to  little 

purpose,  for  they  never  married. 

Madame  Roland's  letters  to  Bancal  in  England 
form  a  running  commentary  on  the  political  oscil- 
lations, the  intrigues  of  the  Court,  the  manoeuvres 
of  the  Constitutional  party,  and  the  passionate  ea- 
gerness of  the  patriots  to  establish  firmly  the  con- 
quests of  the  Revolution.  Among  other  things,  we 
hear  that  the  Declaration  of  the  Rights  of  Man 
was  printed  on  pocket-handkerchiefs  and  distribu- 
ted by  thousands  ;  that  Roland,  who  was  a  first-rate 
pedestrian,  used  to  go  for  long  excursions  with  his 
friend  Lanthenas,  distributing  little  sheets  and  pam- 
phlets to  every  one  they  met  by  the  wayside,  and 
to  the  people  in  cottages  and  country  rnns. 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.   1 57 

On  the  reform  of  the  municipal  bodies  all  over 
France,  the  honest  and  patriotic  Roland  had 
been  one  of  the  first  to  be  sent  to  the  Hotel  de 
Ville  of  Lyons.  By  his  whole  previous  training 
and  wide  experience  of  affairs,  he  seemed  emi- 
nently fitted  for  practical  politics.  When  Arthur 
Young,  passing  through  Lyons  at  the  end  of 
1789,  sought  information  concerning  its  silk 
manufactures,  the  one  man  every  one  told  him  to 
go  to  was  Roland  de  la  Platiere.  This  gentle- 
man he  consequently  met,  and  derived  so  much 
useful  information  from  him  that  he  found  he 
had  not  visited  Lyons  in  vain.  "  We  had  a  great 
deal  of  conversation,"  he  says,  "on  agriculture, 
manufactures,  and  commerce  ;  and  differed  but 
little  in  our  opinions,  except  on  the  treaty  of 
commerce  between  England  and  France,"  — 
adding,  what  is  more  interesting  to  us,  "This 
gentleman,  somewhat  advanced  in  life,  has  a 
young  and  beautiful  wife,  —  the  lady  to  whom  he 
addressed  his  letters  written  in  Italy." 

The  debt  of  Lyons,  whose  finances  were  in  as 
deplorable  a  condition  as  those  of  the  rest  of  the 
kingdom,  amounted  to  nothing  less  than  forty 
millions  of  francs.  As  the  silk  factories  had  suf- 
fered much  during  the  first  year  of  the  Revolu- 
tion, it  became  necessary  to  solicit  assistance  ; 
and,  as  was  natural,  the  ablest  citizen  of  Lyons 
was  sent  as  extraordinary  deputy  to  the  National 


158  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Assembly  to  make  it  acquainted  with  this  state 
of  affairs.  So  Roland  and  his  wife  left  for  Paris, 
where,  on  the  20th  of  February,  1791,  they  in- 
stalled themselves  in  the  appartcDicnt  of  an  unpre- 
tending house  in  the  Rue  Guenegaud,  near  the 
Pont  Neuf. 

No  sooner  had  Madame  Roland  set  foot  in  her 
native  city  than  she  "  ran  to  the  sittings  of  the 
Assembly."  Keenly,  we  may  believe,  did  she 
scrutinize  its  members.     She  says  :  — 

11 1  saw  the  powerful  Mirabeau,  the  astonishing  Cazalds, 
the  bold  Maury,  the  astute  Lameths,  and  the  little  Bar- 
nave,  with  his  little  voice  and  little  reasons,  cold  as  a  lemon 
fricasseed  in  snow,  to  use  the  pleasing  expression  of  a 
woman  of  another  century.  I  observed  with  annoyance 
on  the  side  of  the  Blacks  that  species  of  superiority  which 
in  public  assemblies  belongs  to  men  accustomed  to  per- 
sonal display,  to  purity  of  language,  and  to  distinguished 
manners.  Nevertheless,  the  logic  of  reason,  the  daring 
of  honest  worth,  the  enlightenment  of  philosophy,  the  fruits 
of  study,  and  the  readiness  acquired  at  the  Bar  must  have 
assured  the  victory  to  the  patriots  of  the  Left,  if  they  were 
all  incorruptible  and  could  remain  united." 

Could  remain  united !  ay,  there  was  the  stum- 
bling-block. 

The  Right,  or  Blacks,  —  so  called  because  the 
emigrant  princes  and  nobles  wore  black,  —  then 
represented  the  party  of  the  Moderates,  who  so 
far  from  wishing  to  move  another  step  in  the 
direction  of  progress  were  only  anxious  to  stop 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.  1 59 

still,  or,  if  possible,  to  retrograde  gently.  In  the 
Left  there  were  (as  yet  indiscriminately  mingled) 
men  destined  in  the  lapse  of  one  short  year  to 
become  mortal  enemies.  Among  those  signal- 
ized by  Madame  Roland  was  left  out  one  who, 
destined  to  be  borne  higher  than  any  on  the 
revolutionary  tide,  sat  as  yet  inconspicuously  on 
the  back  benches  of  the  Assembly.  Robespierre 
belonged  to  that  small  section  of  the  extreme 
Left  at  whom  the  Jupiter  Tonans  of  the  Con- 
stituent Assembly  once  hurled  his  admonition  of 
"  Silence  !  you  thirty  votes !  "  But  Mirabeau 
had  scanned  that  impassive  figure,  —  cadaverous 
in  its  pallor,  sternly  pressing  forward  in  one 
straight  line,  deviating  neither  to  the  right  nor 
left,  —  and  had  uttered  the  memorable  words  : 
"That  man  will  go  far,  for  he  believes  every 
word  he  says." 

Now  began  the  potent  influence  which  Madame 
Roland  exercised  on  the  Revolution.  She  was 
no  sooner  settled  on  the  third  floor  of  the  Rue 
Guenegaud,  than  her  house  became  the  centre 
of  a  most  advanced  political  group.  Dominant 
female  figure  of  her  time  though  she  was,  1791 
was  the  year  in  which  women  played  the  most 
marked  part  in  the  Revolution.  The  philosophical 
disquisitions  of  the  salons  had  not  yet  been  over- 
borne by  the  martial  enthusiasm  of  1792  and  the 
gathering  Terror  of  1793.    The  social  life  of  Paris 


160  MADAME  ROLAND. 

was  still  in  its  fullest  bloom,  though  the  salons  of 
1 79 1  differed  entirely  from  those  famous  gather- 
ings presided  over  by  such  female  wits  as  Madame 
du  Deffand  and  Mademoiselle  de  l'Espinasse; 
sparkling  literary  anecdote  and  philosophical  spec- 
ulations had  been  superseded  by  political  and  so- 
cial questions.  Each  shade  of  opinion  had  its 
appropriate  meeting-place.  Royalism  was  repre- 
sented in  the  splendid  mansion  of  the  Princesse 
de  Lamballe.  The  focus  of  the  Constitutionalists 
was  at  the  saloji  of  the  youthful  Madame  de  Stael, 
already  in  her  twenty-fifth  year  a  leading  political 
power.  The  philosophy  of  the  Revolution  found 
its  highest  expression  in  the  group  that  gathered 
round  the  lovely  and  lovable  Madame  de  Con- 
dorcet,  who  had  so  sincerely  given  her  heart  to 
the  great  movement  that  she  was  able  to  incite 
her  husband  to  the  composition  of  his  noblest 
work,  while  he  was  daily  expecting  to  be  dragged 
to  execution.  Then  there  was  the  Cercle  Social 
at  which  ultra-revolutionary  and  social  theories 
were  chiefly  discussed;  it  was  attended  by  an 
enthusiastic  crowd  of  men  and  women,  and  among 
them  was  a  Dutch  lady,  a  Madame  Palm-Aelder, 
who  claimed  political  equality  for  her  sex,  —  a 
claim  worthy  to  be  made  of  the  Revolution,  and 
which  the  fervid  and  excitable  Olympe  de  Gouges, 
who  always  sided  with  the  weaker  party,  seconded 
by  those  telling  words  :  "  Women  have  surely  the 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.   l6l 

right  to  ascend  the  platform,  since  they  have 
that  of  mounting  the  scaffold." 

Above  these  varied  figures  Madame  Roland 
towered,  representing,  as  she  did,  the  pure  Re- 
publican ideal.  Coming  from  the  country,  where 
her  great  powers  had  lain  dormant  so  long, — 
coming  with  the  bloom  of  her  enthusiasm  still 
fresh  upon  her,  with  energies  unblunted,  and  a 
heart  whose  capacity  for  emotion  had  but  grown 
by  long  self-suppression,  —  she  now  scanned  with 
keenest  attention  the  various  actors  in  the  thrill- 
ing political  tragedy  whose  heroine  she  was  des- 
tined to  become.  Her  scrutiny  disappointed  her. 
Too  critical  to  cheat  herself  with  illusions,  she 
nowhere  discovered  the  man  at  once  great  and 
disinterested  enough  to  regulate  the  terrible 
clash  of  class  with  class,  and  to  evolve  a  fresh 
order  from  the  threatening  chaos. 

The  little  gatherings  at  Madame  Roland's 
apartment  were  far  too  modest  to  bear  any  like- 
ness to  a  salon.  Four  times  a  week  a  small  knot 
of  men  used  to  meet  there  to  discuss  and  concert 
measures  in  connection  with  the  political  ques- 
tions of  the  day.  The  fair  hostess  herself  sat  at 
a  little  table  apart,  engaged  in  needle-work,  or 
else  busy  with  her  voluminous  correspondence. 
If  we  are  to  take  her  word  for  it,  she  never  joined 
in  these  discussions,  —  but  neither,  in  spite  of 
her  other  avocations,  ever  lost  a  syllable  of  what 


1 62  MADAME  ROLAND 

passed.  If  she  had  not  the  faculty  of  being  in 
two  places  at  once,  she  must  certainly  have  had 
some  of  Caesar's  genius  for  doing  more  than 
one  thing  at  a  time.  And  as  she  listened 
to  this  interminable  talk,  leading  apparently  to 
no  practical  results,  her  impatience  often  be- 
came such  that  she  was  forced  to  bite  her  lips  to 
avoid  bursting  into  speech,  and  sometimes  only 
refrained  with  difficulty  from  boxing  the  philoso- 
phers' ears. 

Among  the  men  who  most  assiduously  attended 
these  gatherings  was  Brissot,  whom  Madame 
Roland  now  first  saw  face  to  face.  His  appear- 
ance and  manners  harmonized  perfectly  with  the 
idea  she  had  formed  of  him  from  his  writings, 
although  it  struck  her  "  that  a  certain  volatility  of 
mind  and  character  did  not  entirely  become  the 
gravity  of  philosophy."  Thither  also  came  placid, 
ruddy-faced  Petion,  honesty  personified,  erelong 
to  be  made  the  idolized  mayor  of  Paris,  and  not 
long  after  to  become  the  fugitive  outlaw  hiding 
his  prematurely  white  head  from  pursuit.  He 
was  usually  accompanied  by  his  fellow-townsman 
Robespierre,  ever  scrupulously  neat,  with  his  pow- 
dered hair,  the  striped  olive-green  coat  enhancing 
his  bilious  pallor,  saying  little,  but  drinking  in 
everything  that  was  said,  and  breaking  now  and 
then  into  his  wintry  smile.  Madame  Roland  no- 
ticed that  at  the  Jacobin  Club  Robespierre  would 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.  163 

often  make  use  as  his  own  of  the  arguments  and 
ideas  he  had  heard  overnight ;  but  she  excused  it 
as  arising  from  the  conceit  of  youth,  and  occa- 
sionally teased  him  about  it.  Petion  and  Robes- 
pierre, both  members  of  the  Constituante,  had 
always  belonged  to  the  most  advanced  party  in 
the  Assembly,  and  on  its  dissolution  they  were 
triumphantly  carried  off  on  the  shoulders  of  the 
people.  Buzot,  elected  at  Evreux,  where  he  was 
born  in  1760,  also  belonged  to  that  small  minority 
of  the  "thirty  votes."  Of  all  the  men  Madame 
Roland  came  in  contact  with,  he  was  destined  to 
exercise  the  greatest  influence  on  her  future  life. 

Mirabeau  had  passed  away  in  April,  and  with 
him  the  massive  pillar  that  had  helped  to  prop 
the  monarchy.  Mirabeau's  advice  to  the  King 
had  been  to  escape  from  Paris,  —  advice  followed 
by  the  Royal  Family  on  the  20th  of  June,  when 
they  secretly  escaped  from  the  Tuileries,  and  di- 
rected their  flight  to  the  north-eastern  frontier, 
where  the  Marquis  de  Bouille,  from  his  head- 
quarters at  Metz,  was  to  have  come  to  the  rescue 
of  the  King.  The  world  is  familiar  with  the 
story  of  this  thrilling  flight ;  with  the  trivialities 
which,  delaying  it  by  an  hour  or  so,  rendered  the 
well-concerted  scheme  abortive  ;  with  the  recog- 
nition of  Louis  XVI. 's  transparent  disguise  by 
Postmaster  Drouet ;  with  the  latter's  headlong 
nocturnal  ride,  and  arrival  at  Varennes  before  the 


164  MADAME  ROLAND. 

lumbering  royal  berline,  which  he  successfully 
stopped  under  the  gloomy  gateway  of  that  town  ; 
the  seizure  of  the  Royal  party  and  their  convey- 
ance back  to  Paris  by  national  guards,  with  the 
two  deputies,  Barnave  and  Petion,  sent  to  protect 
them  from  the  fury  of  the  mob :  this  anomalous 
procession  moving  along  the  sweltering  highways, 
past  the  ever-renewing  throngs  of  people  with 
angry,  menacing  faces,  —  faces  stamped  with  the 
degradation  of  centuries,  whose  inherited  hatred 
flashed  in  deadly  looks  from  innumerable  eyes, 
stabbing  the  King's  soul  with  thrusts  more  terri- 
ble than  are  dealt  the  body  with  weapons  of 
steel. 

This  progress  through  an  inimical  people  by  a 
sovereign  who  had  violated  his  oath  was  in  reality 
that  King's  dcchcance,  or,  more  truly,  his  moral 
decapitation.  It  was  impossible  that  Louis  XVI. 
could  recover  a  shred  of  authority  after  so  signal 
a  collapse, — although  one  cannot  help  wishing 
that  he  had  made  good  his  escape  across  the 
Rhine.  Madame  Roland  and  Brissot  hoped  for 
nothing  better.  On  the  22d  of  June  she  wrote 
to  Bancal :  "  The  King  and  his  family  are  gone ; 
it  is  far  from  a  misfortune,  if  we  act  with  good 
sense,  energy,  and  union.  The  mass  of  the  peo- 
ple in  the  capital  feel  this,  for  the  mass  is  sound 
and  has  accurate  perceptions  ;  so  much  so  that 
yesterday  the   indignation   against    Louis  XVI., 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.  1 65 

the  hatred  of  kings,  and  the  word  Republic, 
might  be  heard  on  all  sides."  Madame  Roland 
in  writing  to  Bancal  says  that  to  replace  the 
King  on  the  throne  would  be  sheer  folly  and  ab- 
surdity ;  that  now  is  the  time  to  amend  the 
errors  of  the  Constitution  ;  that  they  could  never 
elect  Monsieur,  d'Artois,  Conde,  or  the  vicious 
and  despised  Orleans  as  Regent ;  that  the  King 
should  be  deposed  and  detained  in  safe  keeping, 
the  people  indicted  who  assisted  in  his  flight; 
and  that  in  order  to  insure  the  regular  working 
of  the  Executive  power,  a  national  President 
should  be  temporarily  elected. 

Her  life-long  aspiration  after  the  Republic 
seemed  about  to  be  fulfilled.  She  and  her 
friends  were  ardently  looking  forward  to  its  es- 
tablishment. The  people  now  began  loudly 
clamoring  for  the  deche'ance,  or  deposition.  It 
was  proposed  that  a  petition  to  that  effect  should 
be  drawn  up,  signed  by  thousands  on  the  Champs 
de  Mars,  and  sent  up  to  the  Assembly.  It  was 
from  the  Jacobin  Club  that  the  cry  for  the  de'che'- 
aiice  rose  most  unanimously.  Strange,  impres- 
sive sight  this,  of  a  club  of  Revolutionists  holding 
their  debates  in  the  church  of  a  former  Jacobin 
monastery,  whence  this  new  order  of  a  Church 
Militant  took  its  name.  On  the  13th  of  July  a 
promiscuous  crowd  from  the  Palais  Royal  and 
other  centres  of  agitation  was  closely  packed  in 


1 66  MADAME  ROLAND. 

the  sombre,  ill-lighted  vault,  where  pre-eminent 
among  tombs  of  buried  monks,  was  a  monument 
to  Campanella,  the  great  sixteenth-century  apos- 
tle of  religious  liberty,  whose  spiritual  presence 
there  was  a  kind  of  consecration.  Brissot 
seemed  to  grow  with  the  moment,  and  in  a  mem- 
orable burst  of  eloquence  carried  the  whole  as- 
sembly with  him. 

Brissot,  without  absolutely  attacking  the  mo- 
narchical principle,  insisted  on  the  necessity  of  the 
Kings  deposition,  and  ended  by  reassuring  pub- 
lic opinion  on  the  dangers  which  threatened 
France  from  without  by  a  luminous  exposition  of 
the  critical  state  of  Europe.  Madame  Roland, 
who  was  present,  describes  the  solemnity  of  this 
meeting,  "  when  they  all,  with  inexpressible  en- 
thusiasm—  kneeling  on  the  ground  and  with 
drawn  swords — renewed  their  oaths  to  live  free 
or  to  die."  And  describing  Brissot's  extraordi- 
nary success,  she  exclaims  :  "  At  last  I  have  seen 
the  fire  of  liberty  lit  in  my  country  ;  it  cannot  be 
quenched  again.  ...  I  shall  end  my  days  when 
it  pleases  Nature.  My  last  breath  will  still  be  a 
sigh  of  joy  and  hope  for  the  generations  to  suc- 
ceed us." 

The  outcome  of  this  meeting  was   a  monster 

petition  to  demand  the  dcchcance,  to  be  signed  at 

the  Champs  de  Mars  on   the  following  Sunday. 

VsjSsIn   the   brilliant    sunshine   of  the    17th   of  July 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.   1 67 

crowds  of  holiday-makers  began  to  collect;  and 
Madame  Roland,  who  went  there  herself  in  the 
morning,  bears  witness  to  the  peaceable  demeanor 
of  the  citizens  prepared  to  sign  the  petition. 
But  a  dreadful  change  soon  came  over  the  spirit 
of  the  scene.  Two  mysterious  individuals  dis- 
covered in  hiding  under  the  hollow  structure  of 
the  Altar  of  the  Federation  gave  rise  to  suspi- 
cions of  the  most  ominous  kind  in  the  minds  of 
the  populace,  and  seeing  they  refused  to  confess 
what  had  brought  them  there,  they  were  struck 
down  by  some  infuriated  patriots,  or,  as  others 
suspected,  by  villains  set  on  for  the  purpose  of 
bringing  about  a  massacre.  For  this  murder, 
the  rumor  that  Lafayette  had  been  wounded,  and 
some  stones  thrown  at  the  National  Guards,  suf- 
ficed for  the  unfurling  of  the  Drapeau  Rouge 
and  the  proclamation  of  martial  law.  Before  the 
people  —  most  of  them  armed  with  nothing  more 
deadly  than  walking-sticks  and  parasols  —  real- 
ized the  situation,  a  frightful  detonation  of  artil- 
lery struck  down  men,  women,  and  children,  till 
Lafayette,  at  his  life's  peril,  spurred  his  white 
horse  right  in  front  of  the  cannon's  mouth  to 
stop  the  indiscriminate  slaughter.  That  altar 
where  only  one  short  year  before  citizens  had 
sworn  concord  and  fraternity,  was  now  stained 
with  blood,  some  hundreds,  at  least,  of  harmless 
people  having  perished  on  the  spot. 


168  MADAME  ROLAND. 

The  Massacre  of  the  Champs  de  Mars  fell  like 
a  blight  on  Madame  Roland's  heart.  She  fal- 
tered, fell  ill,  and  lost  hope  for  a  time.  "  Mourn- 
ing *and  death  are  within  our  walls,"  was  her  cry. 
11  But  let  us  keep  the  fire  of  liberty  alive,  and 
transmit  it  in  its  purity  to  a  happier  generation, 
if  our  continued  efforts  are  not  able  to  ensure  its 
success  in  our  day."  In  the  same  spirit  she 
wrote  in  August,— 

"  Fate,  by  giving  us  life  at  the  period  of  new-born  lib- 
erty, has  assigned  us  the  place  of  the  forlorn  hope  of  an 
army,  bound  to  fight  and  prepare  its  victory.  It  behoves 
us  to  do  our  task  well,  and  so  prepare  the  happiness  of  fu- 
ture generations.  For  the  rest,  we  find  our  own  in  such  a 
glorious  task.  If  one  must  struggle,  is  it  not  better  to  do 
so  for  the  felicity  of  a  whole  nation  than  on  one's  own  ac- 
count ?  What,  indeed,  is  the  life  of  the  sage  under  pres- 
ent conditions  but  a  perpetual  struggle  with  passions  and 
prejudices  ? " 

Numbers  of  the  Republican  addresses  sent  to 
the  Assembly  from  the  country  were  in  reality 
composed  under  Madame  Roland's  inspiration  at 
Paris.  She  was  equally  indefatigable  in  penning 
stirring  missives  to  the  Jacobin  societies  in  the 
departments,  —  offshoots  of  the  Society  Mkre. 
How  necessary  it  was  to  keep  the  Provinces  in- 
formed of  the  current  events  and  opinions  in 
Paris  we  learn  from  Arthur  Young,  who,  passing 
through  some  of  the  chief  provincial  towns  at 
such  a  crisis,  says  he  might  almost  as  soon  have 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.  169 

asked  for  a  white  elephant  as  for  a  newspaper, 
even  at  the  most  frequented  cafes. 

A  coup  d'etat  of  the  Constitutionalists  seemed 
imminent  and  the  days  of  the  Jacobin  Club  to  be 
numbered,  as  a  detachment  of  soldiers,  marching 
through  the  Rue  St.  Honore,  threatened  to  de- 
molish the  building,  throwing  the  patriots  therein 
assembled  into  fear  and  confusion.  So  great  was 
the  panic,  that  one  excitable  member  of  the 
stronger  sex  jumped  into  the  ladies'  gallery,  and 
was  put  to  shame  by  Madame  Roland,  who 
"obliged  him  to  make  his  exit  after  the  fashion  of 
his  entrance."  Soldiers  placed  to  guard  the  en- 
trance stopped  patriots  from  entering,  although 
those  within  were  suffered  to  leave  unmolested. 
Fearless  on  her  own  account,  although  full  of  ap- 
prehension for  her  friends,  Madame  Roland  was 
one  of  the  last  to  make  her  way  out. 

The  arrest  of  the  chiefs  of  the  party  being  ex- 
pected from  moment  to  moment,  she  and  her 
husband  went  out  late  on  that  evening — when 
all  peaceable  citizens  were  only  too  thankful  to 
be  safe  within  doors  —  with  the  intention  of  offer- 
ing Robespierre  a  refuge  in  their  own  house. 
The  way  to  the  distant  Marais  was  long  and 
dark,  the  day  had  been  crammed  full  of  horror 
and  danger,  yet  this  noble  woman's  chief  preoc- 
cupation was  to  place  Robespierre  in  security. 
Arrived  in  the  desolate  quarter,  they  found  that 


170  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Robespierre  had  not  returned  to  his  lodging, — 
nor  did  he  ever  return  to  it.  After  leaving  the 
Club,  as  he  was  walking  down  the  noisy  Rue  St. 
Honore,  with  groups  of  people  hissing,  others 
applauding,  some  one  suddenly  seized  him  by  the 
hand,  pulled  him  into  a  house,  and  shut  the  door 
after  him.  This  was  Duplay,  a  thriving  cabinet- 
maker, faithfullest  of  Robespierre's  partisans; 
nor  would  the  notable  Madame  Duplay,  having 
once  secured  such  a  rare  guest,  suffer  him  to  de- 
part again.  In  the  mean  time,  Madame  Roland, 
more  anxious  than  ever  concerning  the  fate  of 
her  mysteriously  vanished  friend,  proceeded 
towards  midnight  to  Buzot's  residence,  with  the 
intention  of  persuading  him  to  join  the  Club  of 
Feuillans,  so  as  to  be  able  to  warn  and  assist  his 
friends  in  case  of  persecution.  The  Feuillans, 
who  had  seceded  from  the  Jacobins,  now  formed 
the  nucleus  of  the  Moderate  Royalist  Party,  of 
which  the  Lameths,  Duport  and  Barnave,  "  sub- 
jugated by  the  smile  of  a  captive  queen,"  were 
the  latest  representatives.  Madame  Roland, 
tremulous  with  generous  excitement,  urged  Buzot 
to  defend  Robespierre  at  the  Feuillans,  so  as  to 
ward  off  the  apprehended  Act  of  Accusation, 
which  she  feared  the  Assembly  would  ratify  with- 
out hesitation.  Buzot,  although  he  refused  to 
comply  with  her  request,  promised  to  defend 
Robespierre  in  the  Assembly  if  necessary. 


MADAME  ROLAND  REVEALS  HERSELF.   171 

In  spite  of  the  prevalent  expectation,  the  As- 
sembly did  not  follow  up  its  "one  fell  blow"  with 
the  decisive  measures  which  might  have  nipped 
the  rapidly-growing  influence  of  the  Jacobins,  the 
Cordeliers,  and  the  Fraternal  Societies.  Instead 
of  closing  the  clubs,  arresting  the  leaders,  sup- 
pressing the  most  violent  journals,  it  deliberated, 
discussed,  delayed,  and  so  lost  its  final  oppor- 
tunity, —  for  the  time  of  its  dissolution  was  fast 
approaching.  Countless  addresses,  too,  arrived 
from  the  country,  protesting  against  the  Royal- 
ist proclivities  of  their  representatives.  One  of 
them,  addressed  to  the  Chamber  and  brought  in 
person  by  Bancal  des  Issarts,  was  evidently  due 
to  the  impulse  of  the  woman  who  possessed  the 
secret  of  communicating  her  own  fiery  energy  to 
her  friends.  This  address,  in  which  the  electors 
of  Clermont  accused  the  Deputies  of  having 
twice  disappointed  the  hopes  of  the  nation  by 
the  adjournment  of  the  elections  and  deferring 
the  completion  of  the  Constitution,  and  in  which 
it  was  further  stated  that  if  a  term  were  not  fixed 
within  the  fortnight  steps  would  be  takeii  regard- 
less of  the  Assembly,  was  not  admitted  before  the 
bar  of  the  Chamber.  Bancal  had  hurried  up  to 
Paris  with  the  address,  in  spite  of  a  dissuasive  let- 
ter from  Madame  Roland,  who  in  the  deepest  de- 
pression at  the  massacre  had  written  all  was  over, 
and  that  it  was  useless  for  him  to  come  to  Paris. 


172  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Soon  after  these  distressing  events,  Roland, 
having  satisfactorily  accomplished  the  mission 
with  which  he  had  been  intrusted,  left  the  capital, 
and  his  wife  could  now  again  cultivate  her  let- 
tuces and  superintend  the  vintage  at  the  Clos  de  la 
Platiere.  But  the  fever  of  the  Revolution  burned 
in  her  veins,  the  thirst  for  action  consumed  her, 
and  having  once  taken  her  share  in  that  stimu- 
lating, all-absorbing  centre  of  political  action,  she 
bitterly  lamented  sinking  back  into  the  nothing- 
ness of  provincial  life,  and  never  again  found  re- 
pose in  the  green  fields  and  shady  thickets  once 
so  dear  to  her. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

THE  ROLAND  ADMINISTRATION. 

The  days  of  the  National  Assembly  had  drawn 
to  a  close.  Its  members,  who  had  come  in  with 
the  audacity  of  lions,  went  out  with  the  meek- 
ness of  lambs.  The  sublime  moments  of  the 
yeu  de  Paume  and  of  the  4th  of  August  had 
already  receded  into  the  past.  Twenty-eight 
months  of  legislative  labors,  accomplished  at 
Revolution  speed,  had  more  completely  used  up 
these  men  than  years  of  ordinary  political  ac- 
tivity. From  being  the  vanguard  of  the  popular 
movement  they  had  fallen  into  its  rear.  "You 
reason  like  the  end  of  a  legislature  "  had  become 
a  proverbial  expression  of  contempt.  One  of 
the  last  acts  of  the  old  Assembly  —  the  Con- 
stituent as  distinguished  from  its  successor,  the 
Legislative  —  was  to  disqualify  itself  by  passing  a 
resolution  that  none  of  its  members  were  eligible 
for  the  next  Parliament.  This  motion,  proposed 
by  Robespierre,  was  calculated,  as  it  proved,  to 
handicap  effectually  the  moderate  party ;  and  the 
new  elections  showed  that  the  nation  wished  for 
a  more  radical  policy. 


174  MADAME  ROLAND. 

The  Convention  of  Pilnitz  took  place  in  Au- 
gust. The  Emperor  of  Austria,  the  King  of 
Prussia,  the  minor  German  potentates,  and  the 
emigrant  princes  were  concocting  measures 
against  the  French  people,  who  since  the  King's 
unsuccessful  flight  had  kept  him  in  semi-durance 
at  the  Tuileries.  However,  since  the  completion 
of  the  Constitution  and  its  acceptance  by  Louis 
XVI.,  there  was  a  fresh  upflickering  of  royalty  ; 
but  the  conspiracies  with  the  foreigner,  and  the 
bribery,  or  attempted  bribery,  of  public  men,  were 
never  given  up  for  long.  "  Louis  XVI.,"  says 
Madame  Roland,  "  was  always  vacillating  be- 
tween the  fear  of  irritating  his  subjects,  hisv wish 
to  please  them,  and  his  incapacity  of  governing 
them  ;  .  .  .  always,  on  the  one  hand,  proclaiming 
the  maintenance  of  what  he  ordered  to  be  sapped 
with  the  other, —  so  that  his  oblique  course  and 
false  conduct  first  excited  mistrust,  and  ended  by 
rousing  indignation." 

The  Legislative  Assembly  met  on  the  1st  of 
October,  1791,  while  the  country  was  distracted 
by  apprehensions  of  invasion  and  by  doubt  of  its 
ability  to  meet  it.  In  this  crisis  of  her  fate, 
France,  as  if  instinctively,  had  sent  to  represent 
her  the  men  most  apt  to  act  with  promptitude. 
In  one  night  the  aspect  of  the  Chamber  had  en- 
tirely changed  its  character.  The  venerable 
Constitution-makers    had    vanished,    smoke-like, 


THE  ROLAND  ADMINISTRATION.      1 75 

into  the  past.  In  their  stead  had  come  slim  fig- 
ures, clustered  locks,  eyes  flashing  infinite  hope. 
So  youthful  a  Senate  was  never  seen  before. 

Conspicuous  among  its  members  was  a  group 
of  men,  sent  up  from  the  ardent  Gironde,  destined 
to  take  the  lead  in  the  New  Assembly.  All  of 
them  men  who  had  nourished  their  youth  on  the 
literature  of  Greece  and  Rome,  they  entered  the 
arena  with  little  or  no  practical  experience,  but 
with  the  Republic  for  their  watchword.  They 
were  the  idealists  of  the  Revolution.  The  free 
state  which  they  wished  to  achieve,  that  would 
they  achieve  "holily;"  and  while  they  clamored 
for  war  with  the  foreign  foe,  they  deprecated  vio- 
lence at  home. 

When  Madame  Roland  returned  to  Paris  in 
the  December  of  1791,  the  affinity  between  her 
and  the  new  party  made  her  at  once  the  centre  of 
that  group  of  men  known  as  "  The  Gironde."  It 
seemed  as  if  from  their  childhood  these  kindred 
natures  had  been  converging  to  this  hour  of 
meeting. 

With  armies  ominously  collecting  on  her  fron- 
tiers, a  spirit  of  defiant  heroism  entered  the  heart 
of  France.  The  representatives  she  had  elected 
to  man  the  vessel  of  State  were  the  expression  of 
this  spirit.  The  indefatigable  Brissot  was  chosen 
as  its  captain  by  this  gallant  crew,  —  chief  among 
whom  may  be  mentioned  the  headstrong  Guadet, 


176  MADAME  ROLAND. 

as  impetuous  as  Gensonne"  was  deliberate  in 
counsel ;  Isnard,  the  Provencal,  consumed  by  a 
fanaticism  he  communicated  to  his  hearers ; 
Vergniaud,  winged  of  speech,  stamping  the  top- 
ics of  the  time  with  the  seal  of  eternity ;  the 
silent  Grangeneuve,  capable  of  performing  a 
great  action  without  suspecting  its  greatness  ; 
Louvet,  ever  first  to  the  attack,  as  dauntless  in 
spirit  as  delicate  in  frame  ;  Barbaroux,  the  reso- 
lute young  Marseillais,  "with  the  head  of  Anti- 
nous  and  the  heart  of  a  lion  ; "  Petion,  too,  and 
thehigh-souled  Buzot,  both  tried  supporters  of  the 
popular  cause  ;  not  to  forget  those  two  figures  of 
an  ideal  purity  and  sweetness,  Fonfrede  and 
Ducos,  the  Nisus  and  Euryalus  of  the  Revolu- 
tion. Of  this  young  hopeful  crew  the  grave, 
reverend  Roland  —  he  of  whom  Lavater  had  said 
that  he  "reconciled  him  to  Frenchmen"  —  was 
presently  to  assume  the  pilotage.  But  high  on 
the  poop  above,  beautiful  like  the  impersonation 
of  liberty,  stands  the  heroine  of  the  Gironde,  ex- 
horting and  stimulating,  while  the  ever-increasing 
storm  lashes  the  sea,  and  the  wind  whistling  in 
the  shrouds  and  rigging  foretells  a  perilous  pas- 
sage. Will  they  steer  the  ship  safely  through 
the  breakers  and  whirlpools,  those  fearless  men 
singing  their  Allons  enfants,  or  will  they  and  that 
fair  woman  who  is  their  inspiration  founder  pitia- 
bly in  the  convulsed  elements  of  the  Revolution  ? 


THE  ROLAND  ADMINISTRATION.      1 77 

The  last  months  of  the  year  1791  were  crowded 
with  incident.  The  Assembly,  in  very  self-de- 
fence, passed  the  decree  against  the  emigrant 
noblesse  and  the  Princes  of  the  Blood,  declaring 
that  unless  they  returned  by  the  1st  of  January, 
1792,  their  property  should  be  confiscated  and 
themselves  declared  traitors  to  their  country. 
The  question  had  also  been  mooted  and  sup- 
ported of  passing  a  law  to  stop  emigration  ;  but 
Brissot,  with  his  unflinching  love  of  liberty,  had 
successfully  opposed  the  motion.  The  decree 
against  the  priests,  enforcing  the  civil  oath  on 
penalty  of  sequestration  of  stipend  and  expulsion 
from  the  State  Church  —  a  measure  of  far  more 
questionable  wisdom  —  was  passed  in  December, 
1791.  To  mix  up  the  social  and  economic 
changes  with  religious  ones  was  dangerously  to 
complicate  the  situation. 

The  stumbling-blocks  of  the  Revolution  —  its 
deadliest  opponents,  in  fact  —  were  not  the  King 
with  his  veto,  nor  yet  the  truculent  aristocrats 
petitioning  for  invasion,  but  the  priests  and  the 
women,  —  so  true  is  it  that  no  great  outward 
transformation  can  be  effectively  achieved  with- 
out a  previous  inward  and  spiritual  transforma- 
tion, in  which  the  female  part  of  the  population 
must  take  an  incalculable  share.  Now,  although 
the  women  of  the  upper  and  upper  middle  classes 
were  deeply  penetrated  by  the  ideas  of  the  eigh- 

12 


178  MADAME  ROLAND. 

teenth  century,  and  had  consequently  flung  them- 
selves into  the  movement  with  an  emotional 
impulse  that  had  gone  far  to  accelerate  it,  the 
women  of  the  people  —  except  in  Paris  and  some 
other  large  centres,  where  hunger  spurred  them 
into  insurrection  — were  wedded  to  their  Church. 
Here,  in  fact,  lay  the  real,  insuperable  difficulty; 
and  the  fierce  animosities  of  a  semi-religious  war- 
fare began  to  envenom  the  deadly  strife. 

The  responsibility  of  the  decrees  against  the 
emigrants  and  non-juring  priests  rests  mainly 
with  the  Girondins.  Their  next  decisive  step 
was  to  preach  war ;  not  a  prudent,  self  defensive 
war,  but  war  on  a  grander  scale  than  the  world 
had  yet  known, — a  crusade  for  Liberty  through- 
out Europe.  And  Vergniaud,  that  storm-bird  of 
the  Revolution,  who  continually  rose  above  the 
rage  of  temporal  contests  to  some  serene  ether  of 
thought,  lifted  up  all  hearts  in  the  Assembly  as 
he  cried  in  that  richly-cadenced  voice  of  his : 
"  A  thought  rises  within  me.  The  shades  of  the 
generations  of  the  past  seem  to  come  crowding 
to  this  your  temple,  and  to  conjure  you,  in  the 
name  of  the  evils  they  endured  from  slavery,  to 
deliver  from  them  the  unborn  generations  whose 
fate  is  in  your  hands.  Grant  this  prayer  ;  be  the 
Providence  of  the  future ;  enter  into  a  cove- 
nant with  that  Eternal  justice  now  protecting 
us!" 


THE  ROLAND  ADMINISTRATION.      1 79 

These  solemn  words  converted  the  Chamber 
into  a  temple.  But  unanimous  as  was  the  cry  for 
war,  one  man  held  out  against  it,  —  the  inflexible 
Robespierre,  who  urged,  with  statesman-like 
sagacity,  that  the  nation  should  get  rid  of  its  in- 
ternal foes  before  attacking  the  foreigner.  The 
first  decisive  difference  in  opinion  between  him 
and  Brissot  broke  out  on  this  occasion,  for  the 
latter,  reposing  infinite  faith  in  the  new  doctrine, 
was  less  distrustful  of  the  coadjutors  who  for 
private  reasons  of  their  own  might  be  willing  to 
join  hands  with  him. 

At  this  critical  juncture  of  affairs  another  illus- 
trious woman  exercised  a  decisive  influence  on 
the  march  of  events.  Madame  de  Stael,  then  but 
twenty-five,  had  become  the  rallying-point  of  the 
Constitutionalists,  as  was  Madame  Roland  of 
the  Gironde.  Placed  in  hostile  political  camps, 
they  never  met ;  and  Madame  Roland  makes  but 
one  allusion,  and  that  a  curious  one,  to  the  future 
"  Corinne."  In  a  letter  from  Lyons,  dating  back 
as  far  as  November,  1789,  she  says:  — 

"  Report  spreads  all  kinds  of  stories  about  Madame  de 
Staal  {sic),  who  is  said  to  be  regularly  present  at  the  As- 
sembly, and  to  send  little  billets  from  the  gallery  to  her 
devoted  cavaliers,  in  order  to  encourage  their  support  of 
patriotic  measures.  The  Spanish  ambassador,  it  is  said, 
has  gravely  reproached  her  for  it  at  her  father's  table. 
You  cannot  imagine  what  importance  the  Aristocrats  at- 
tach to  these  absurdities,  hatched,  no  doubt,  in  their  own 


180  MADAME  ROLAND. 

brains  ;  but  they  would  fain  depict  the  Assembly  as  led  by 
a  few  feather-brained  youths,  egged  on  by  a  dozen  of 
women  or  so." 

Madame  de  Stael,  either  from  feminine  jeal- 
ousy, or  possibly  acquainted  with  Madame 
Roland's  stinging  attacks  on  M.  Necker,  her 
father  (of  whom  she  had  said,  among  other 
things,  that  he  was  forever  speaking  of  his  char- 
acter, without  rhyme  or  reason,  as  women  of 
gallantry  do  of  their  virtue),  in  her  description 
of  the  Girondin  group  never  even  alludes  to  the 
woman  who  was  its  inspiration. 

Narbonne,  made  Minister  of  War  by  the  in- 
fluence of  Madame  de  Stael,  fell  in  with  the  popu- 
lar war-cry,  in  the  hope  of  re-establishing  the 
King's  authority  on  a  firm  Constitutional  basis. 
The  Court  party  proper,  however,  had  no  genuine 
desire  for  war,  as  the  risks  outweighed  the  advan- 
tages. Events  eventually  justified  the  fears  of 
the  Court  and  Brissot's  sanguine  faith  in  French 
arms  and  the  cause  of  the  Revolution,  more  than 
they  did  the  cautious  apprehensions  of  Robes- 
pierre. 

At  this  period  Brissot  was  not  only  all-power- 
ful in  the  Assembly,  but  his  direct  or  indirect 
influence  pervaded  all"  its  committees,  and  on 
the  break-up  of  the  Narbonne  Administration  he 
imposed  a  Ministry  of  his  own  on  the  Govern- 
ment.    He  had  now  reached  the  height  of  his 


THE  ROLAND  ADMINISTRATION.      l8l 

influence,  and  while  bestowing  place  and  power 
on  those  whom  similarity  of  political  views  had 
made  his  friends,  he  himself,  poorer  than  Robes- 
pierre, went  about  in  a  shabby  old  out-at-elbows 
coat,  while  his  wife  in  person  used  to  iron  out  his 
three  shirts  on  some  sixth  floor  of  a  lodging.  In 
the  teeth  of  this  Spartan  disinterestedness,  his 
opponents  did  not  blush  afterwards  to  accuse 
Brissot  of  intrigue  and  place-hunting  ! 

As  the  members  of  the  Executive  were  ex 
eluded  from  the  Chamber  in  which  the  ruling 
power  actually  resided,  the  leader  of  the  Giron- 
dins,  averse  from  crippling  his  own  influence  or 
that  of  the  chief  members  of  his  party,  looked  out 
for  men  not  yet  practically  involved  in  politics, 
while  qualified  by  previous  experience  for  public 
life.  His  choice  fell  upon  Roland  de  la  Platiere, 
as  Minister  of  the  Interior.  It  seemed  a  happy 
idea,  seeing  that  for  the  last  thirty-five  years  of 
his  life  the  latter  had  not  only  been  professionally 
led  to  comprehend  the  economic  and  commercial 
conditions  of  his  country,  but  had  also  studied 
them  with  the  eye  of  the  philosopher. 

On  the  23d  of  March,  1792,  Roland  entered 
the  new  Ministry,  and  to  all  intents  and  purposes 
his  wife  entered  it  with  him.  On  the  same  even- 
ing she  for  the  first  time  saw  one  of  his  col- 
leagues, Dumouriez,  Minister  for  Foreign  Affairs, 
and  the  future  hero  of  the  victory  at  Jemmapes. 


V 


1 82  MADAME  ROLAND. 

"This  is  a  man,"  said  she  to  her  husband  after 
their  visitor's  departure,  "  who  has  a  vivacious 
intelligence,  a  false  eye,  and  of  whom,  perhaps, 
we  should  be  more  distrustful  than  of  any  one  in 
the  world.  He  has  expressed  much  satisfaction 
at  the  patriotic  choice  with  which  he  was 
charged,  but  I  should  not  be  astonished  if  some 
day  he  obtained  your  dismissal  from  office." 
Thus,  at  the  first  glance,  Madame  Roland  per- 
ceived the  incongruity  between  the  worldly  plia- 
bility of  Dumouriez  and  her  husband's  unbending 
rigidity  of  principle  ;  but  she  was  also  forced  to 
acknowledge  that  if  Dumouriez  had  no  character, 
he  had  more  native  capacity  and  resource  than 
all  the  other  Ministers  taken  together.  Claviere, 
long  esteemed  by  Brissot  for  his  extensive  and 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  complicated  sys- 
tem of  Finance,  became  Minister  of  that  depart- 
ment ;  and  in  his  case  also  Madame  Roland 
foresaw  possible  troubles  of  another  sort.  He 
was  upright,  no  doubt ;  but  then,  again,  he  was 
too  like  her  husband,  whose  temper  she  knew 
and  managed  with  inimitable  tact :  she  foresaw 
that  irritable,  dogmatic,  and  tenacious  of  their 
views  as  both  were,  they  would  soon  disagree. 
"  These  two  men,"  she  says,  "  were  made  to  es- 
teem but  not  to  love  each  other ;  and  they  have 
not  failed  in  their  vocation."  In  Degrave  she 
depicts  the  most  ludicrously  inadequate  Minister 


THE  ROLAND  ADMINISTRATION.      1 83 

of  War !  —  how  or  why  placed  in  that  office  is 
not  evident.  "  He  was  a  little  man  in  all  re- 
spects," she  remarks.  "  Nature  had  created  him 
gentle  and  timid  ;  his  prejudices  made  pride  ob- 
ligatory, and  his  heart  inclined  him  to  amiability. 
Perplexed  as  he  was  to  harmonize  all  this,  he 
became  truly  null.  I  seem  now  to  see  him  strut- 
ting, courtier-fashion,  on  his  heels,  his  head  erect 
on  his  feeble  body,  showing  the  whites  of  his 
blue  eyes,  which  he  could  never  keep  open  after 
dinner  without  the  aid  of  two  or  three  cups  of 
coffee  ;  speaking  little,  as  if  from  reserve,  but 
really  because  he  had  nothing  to  say ;  lastly,  so 
completely  losing  his  head  in  the  midst  of  affairs 
that  he  had  to  send  in  his  resignation."  The 
able  and  conscientious  Servan,  Madame  Roland's 
own  choice,  replaced  him  in  office. 

Charles  V.,  in  his  retreat  having  vainly  tried 
to  make  several  watches  keep  time,  railed  at  his 
former  folly  for  wishing  to  regulate  an  empire's 
course.  Madame  Roland,  called  from  privacy  to 
take  part  in  public  affairs  at  a  most  momentous 
crisis,  now  discovered  with  dismay  how  difficult 
it  was  for  a  small  knot  of  men  to  act  in  concert, 
even  when  agreed  as  to  principles.  She  was 
equally  struck  by  the  scarcity  of  men  whose 
"energy  of  soul,  solidity  of  judgment,  and  exten- 
sive views"  might  entitle  them  to  be  called  great. 
Although  she  never  abated  by  a  jot  her  devotion 


1 84  MADAME  ROLAND. 

to  the  cause,  we  henceforth  find  a  considerable 
change  in  her  tone  hitherto  so  glowing.,  and  in 
her  appreciation  of  the  leaders  of  the  Revolution. 
Seeing  so  closely  the  wheels  of  the  political 
machine  and  the  actors  that  worked  it,  she  shud- 
dered at  their  want  of  union,  and  asked  herself 
where  was  the  man  of  sufficiently  commanding 
political  genius  to  weld  together  these  hetero- 
geneous elements.  Her  sex  precluded  her,  un- 
fortunately, from  taking  a  share  in  the  actual 
political  struggle  ;  otherwise,  with  her  knowledge 
of  men,  her  practical  sagacity,  her  singleness  of 
purpose,  her  magnetic  personality,  she  might 
herself  have  become  the  rallying  point  of  her 
party,  and  her  potent  will  would  no  doubt  have 
infused  into  them  a  cohesion  and  a  distinctness 
of  aim  for  lack  of  which  they  ultimately  perished. 
As  it  was,  she  could  only  act  indirectly  and  at 
second-hand,  which  naturally  weakened  the  force 
of  her  influence.  Although  she  would  not  have 
had  Roland  deviate  by  an  inch  from  the  political 
principles  which  they  had  hitherto  entertained,  she 
could  have  wished  him  to  evince  more  pliability 
in  unimportant  details  of  business  and  greater 
tact  in  his  intercourse  with  his  colleagues. 

But  Roland  suffered  from  precisely  the  same 
defects  which  were  at  the  root  of  so  much  that 
was  calamitous  in  the  French  Revolution.  For 
the  men  who  then  came  to  the  forefront  of  events 


THE  ROLAND  ADMINISTRATION.      1 85 

had  not  served  that  apprenticeship  to  political 
life  (as  how  should  they  under  a  despotic  Gov- 
ernment ?)  which  would  have  insensibly  prepared 
them  for  the  complex  and  difficult  art  of  good 
government.  That  very  a  b  c  of  politics,  the  daily 
press,  familiar  as  household  words  to  the  meanest 
drudge  in  the  United  States,  only  came  into  exist- 
ence with  the  French  Revolution.  Philosophic 
theories,  logical  conclusions  drawn  from  abstract 
reasoning,  the  speculations  of  the  study,  the  argu- 
mentative rhetoric  of  the  Bar,  were  the  equipment 
with  which  the  prominent  members  of  the  Assem- 
bly started  on  their  political  career.  Whereas 
the  subtile  involvement  of  social  life  is  such  that 
the  law  of  progress  seems  to  be,  that  for  every 
two  steps  taken  in  advance  there  must  be  made 
a  step  backwards,  these  fanatics  of  freedom  wished 
to  push  on  at  all  hazards,  even  at  that  of  annihi- 
lating all  resisting  human  forces. 

With  Roland,  the  simplicity  of  Republican  man- 
ners came  upon  the  Court  with  a  fresh  shock. 
His  round  hat,  his  plain  dress,  his  shoes  tied  with 
ribbons,  shocked  and  scandalized  the  whole  tribe  of 
flunkeys.  Here,  indeed,  was  Royalty  compromised 
as  it  never  had  been  before.  The  Master  of  the 
Ceremonies,  approaching  Dumouriez  with  a  dis- 
turbed countenance  and  frowning  brow,  said  in  a 
low  constrained  voice,  indicating  Roland  with  a 
side-glance,  "Lord,  Sir !  no  buckles  to  his  shoes  !  " 


1 86  MADAME  ROLAND. 

"  Ah,  Sir !  all  is  lost ! "  replied  Dumouriez,  with 
a  most  comical  self-possession. 

Madame  Roland  was  now  installed  in  the  Minis- 
terial residence,  magnificently  fitted  up  in  the  early 
days  of  Louis  XVI. 's  reign  by  M.  de  Calonne 
while,  like  so  many  others,  trying  his  hand  at 
regulating  the  finances.  To  her  private  use  she 
appropriated  only  a  small  cabinet.  The  only 
change  she  made  in  her  life  was  to  restrict  her 
intercourse  even  more  severely  than  of  old,  partly 
to  economize  time  and  partly  to  keep  the  host  of 
place-seekers  at  a  distance.  Twice  a  week  she 
presided  at  a  Ministerial  dinner,  to  which,  besides 
her  husband's  colleagues,  members  of  the  Assem- 
bly and  other  political  friends  to  the  number  of 
fifteen  were  bidden,  but  at  which  no  lady  save 
herself  was  present.  Lemontey,  a  distinguished 
writer  though  not  a  political  partisan,  describing 
Madame  Roland  as  she  was  at  this  period,  says : 

"  Head,  eyes,  and  hair  were  of  remarkable  beauty.  The 
freshness  and  brilliancy  of  her  delicate  complexion,  added 
to  an  air  of  reserve  and  candor,  gave  her  a  singularly  youth- 
ful appearance.  I  did  not  discover  that  easy  elegance  of 
the  Parisian  to  which  she  lays  claim  in  her  Memoirs,  yet 
she  was  devoid  of  awkwardness,  because  what  is  simple 
and  natural  must  also  be  graceful.  On  my  first  seeing  her 
she  realized  my  idea  of  the  little  girl  of  Vevay,  who  has 
turned  so  many  heads,  — the  Julie  of  Rousseau.  Madame 
Roland  spoke  well  —  too  well.  The  listener  would  fain  have 
discovered  signs  of  preparation  in  her  speech,  but  could 


THE  ROLAND  ADMINISTRATION.      1 87 

not.  Hers  was  simply  too  perfect  a  nature.  Wit,  reason, 
common-sense,  and  sweetness  flowed  with  spontaneous 
felicity  of  diction  from  between  ivory  teeth  and  rosy  lips  : 
there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  resign  yourself.  ...  At  the 
beginning  of  her  husband's  ministry  I  saw  Madame  Roland 
for  the  last  time.  She  had  lost  nothing  of  her  freshness, 
youthfulness,  or  simplicity.  Roland  looked  like  a  Quaker, 
for  whose  daughter  she  might  have  passed.  Her  child 
capered  round  her  with  hair  rippling  down  to  her  waist. 
You  would  have  said  they  were  inhabitants  from  Pennsyl- 
vania transplanted  to  the  salon  of  M.  de  Calonne.  Madame 
Roland  spoke  only  of  public  affairs,  and  I  could  see  that 
my  moderation  inspired  her  with  some  pity.  Her  soul  was 
wrought  up,  but  her  heart  remained  gentle  and  inoffensive. 
Although  the  wreck  or  monarchy  had  not  yet  occurred,  she 
did  not  disguise  from  herself  that  signs  of  anarchy  were  be- 
ginning to  show  themselves,  and  she  promised  to  oppose 
them  unto  death." 

Although  the  power  of  the  executive  in  reality 
rested  not  so  much  in  the  Ministry  as  in  the  Rep- 
resentative Assembly,  the  conscientious  Roland 
was  prepared  to  fulfil  his  duties  to  the  utmost. 
The  good-nature  and  apparent  sincerity  of  the 
King  had  charmed  him  at  first,  and  he  had  come 
home  from  the  Cabinet  meetings  full  of  hope  con- 
cerning the  future  working  of  the  Constitution, 
seeing  the  excellent  hitherto  misunderstood  inten- 
tions of  the  monarch.  His  wife  was  not  so  easily 
duped,  and  warned  him  not  to  be  too  credulous. 
Her  misgivings  proved  only  too  well  founded,  for 
in  spite  of  his  protestations  of  devotion,   Louis 


1 88  MADAME  ROLAND. 

XVI. 's  policy  consisted  mainly  in  putting  a  stop 
to  all  active  measures  of  government.  Thus  he 
cunningly  evaded  sanctioning  two  decrees  of  the 
utmost  importance  to  the  State,  —  one  against 
the  recalcitrant  priests,  now  fomenting  civil  war 
in  the  provinces  ;  the  other  (war  having  been 
declared  against  Austria),  that  of  the  formation 
of  a  federate  camp  of  twenty  thousand  men  to 
protect  Paris,  —  on  the  one  hand  exposed  to  the 
foreign  foe  by  its  proximity  to  the  frontier,  and 
on  the  other  to  the  foe  within,  in  that  suspicious 
guard  of  picked  men  which  had  gradually  been 
formed  in  the  Tuileries. 

The  idea  of  this  camp  had  originated  with  Ma- 
dame Roland.  Convinced  of  the  King's  duplicity 
and  its  attendant  dangers,  she  had  persuaded 
Roland  that  a  patriotic  Ministry  should  either 
make  an  effort  to  save  the  country  or  retire  from 
office.  With  more  than  her  usual  promptitude, 
she  wrote  off  a  letter  destined  to  be  sent  to  Louis 
XVI.  in  the  name  of  the  Council.  None  of  the 
Ministers  being  prepared  to  take  so  bold  a  step, 
Roland  sent  it  in  his  own  name.  A  lesson  and  an 
exhortation  in  one,  it  implored  the  Sovereign  not 
to  rouse  the  suspicion  of  the  nation  by  constantly 
betraying  his  suspicion  of  it,  but  to  secure  his 
country's  love  by  adopting  in  all  sincerity  the 
measures  fitted  to  insure  the  welfare  and  safety 
of  the  State.     The  Declaration  of  Rights,  he  was 


THE  ROLAND  ADMINISTRATION.      1 89 

told,  had  become  a  political  gospel  and  the  French 
Constitution  a  religion,  for  which  the  people  were 
prepared  to  perish. 

The  only  effect  of  this  letter  was  to  bring  about 
the  fall  of  the  Ministers,  with  the  exception  of 
Dumouriez,  who  had  secret  leanings  to  the  Court. 
Servan  was  the  first  to  get  his  dismissal.  Enter- 
ing Madame  Roland's  room  with  a  radiant  face, 
he  said,  "  Congratulate  me  !  I  have  been  turned 
off."  "  I  am  much  nettled,"  replied  the  lady, 
"  that  you  should  be  the  first  to  enjoy  this  honor  ; 
but  I  hope  that  it  will  be  conferred  on  my  hus- 
band without  delay."  Her  hopes  were  not  disap- 
pointed ;  and  her  advice,  when  he  brought  her 
the  news,  was  that  he  should  be  the  first  to  let 
the  Legislative  Assembly  know  of  his  dismissal 
by  sending  it  a  copy  of  his  letter  to  the  King. 

The  Girondin  Ministers  now  became  the  popu- 
lar idols  of  the  hour.  There  were  many  signs 
abroad  that  the  Court  wished  to  strike  some  de- 
cisive blow.  The  Moderates  and  the  Constitu- 
tionalists seemed  on  the  point  of  uniting  with  the 
Ultra- Royalists  ;  and  General  Lafayette  from  his 
camp  wrote  a  threatening  letter  to  the  Assembly, 
justifying  the  King's  veto,  and  exhorting  it  to 
respect  royalty.  The  immediate  result  of  these 
ominous  movements  was  the  insurrection  of  the 
20th  of  June,  when  the  Palace  of  the  Tuileries 
was  invaded,  as  by  enchantment,  with  a  tumultu- 


190  MADAME  ROLAND.       . 

ous  crowd  of  sans- culottes  and  fish-wives,  and 
which  saw  the  descendant  of  the  Bourbons  don 
the  bonnet  rouge.  Cries  of  "  Recall  of  the  Minis- 
ters ! "  "  Repeal  of  the  Veto ! "  were  heard  at 
intervals  ;  but  without  committing  himself  to  any 
promise,  the  King  knew  how  to  amuse  the  people 
by  pinning  a  cockade  to  the  red  cap  of  liberty, 
and  joining  in  the  shouts  of  "  Long  live  the  Na- 
tion !  "  At  last,  admonished  by  the  Mayor,  the 
crowd  dispersed  peaceably  enough,  and  this 
singular  insurrection  ended  in  the  Royal  apart- 
ments being  thrown  open  to  the  populace  to 
see  on  its  way  out ! 


CHAPTER  XII. 

DIES   IRJE. 

"  The  country  in  danger ! "  was  the  cry  which 
electrified  France,  as  crowds  of  volunteers  started 
from  all  parts  for  the  frontier.  Now,  for  the  first 
time,  the  hymn  of  the  Revolution  resounded 
through  the  realm,  as,  solemnly  singing  it,  five 
hundred  Marseillais  marched  towards  Paris. 
But  the  danger  not  only  came  from  the  foreign 
enemy,  already  victorious  in  several  places  on  the 
frontier,  —  it  lurked  at  the  very  heart  of  the  capi- 
tal, in  a  hostile  Court,  ready  to  make  common 
cause  with  the  invader.  Here  lay  the  paramount 
cause  of  the  ioth  of  August, — collateral  causes  be- 
ing the  deposition  of  Petion,  the  beloved  Mayor 
of  Paris,  and  the  dismissal  of  the  Girondin  Min- 
istry. Madame  Roland  declares  that  Roland  and 
herself  knew  no  more  concerning  the  ioth  of  Au- 
gust —  when  the  Palace  of  the  Kings  of  France 
was  stormed,  and  the  Royal  Family  forced  to 
take  refuge  in  the  bosom  of  the  National  As- 
sembly —  than  did  the  outside  public. 

Now  came  the  question  how  to  proceed  with 
this    poor    King,   from    whom    every    shred    of 


192  MADAME  ROLAND. 

authority  had  departed  !  Suspension  of  the  ex- 
ecutive power,  appointment  of  a  tutor  to  the  Dau- 
phin, removal  of  the  Royal  Family  to  the  Lux- 
embourg, were  the  first  measures  adopted  by  the 
Assembly.  But  its  orders  were  countermanded, 
and  the  Royal  Family  taken  to  the  dungeon- 
like tower  of  the  Temple  instead  of  to  the  palace 
assigned  them  ;  while  the  Swiss  troops  —  who 
had  incurred  the  deadly  hatred  of  the  populace 
of  Paris  by  firing  on  and  killing  them  by  thou- 
sands, in  their  defence  of  the  Tuileries  —  were 
imprisoned  in  the  Abbaye,  the  most  exposed  of 
the  prisons.  For  a  new  power  had  mysteriously 
sprung  into  existence  on  that  night  of  the  ioth 
of  August,  —  the  insurrectionary  Commune. 
Whence  its  authority  —  by  whom  elected  — 
none  could  say  ;  but,  by  the  occult  law  of  revolu- 
tions, the  leadership  suddenly  passed  from  the 
Assembly  into  its  hands.  One  man  at  that 
moment  was  the  soul  of  the  Commune,  —  the 
man  who,  if  any  one,  had  made  the  ioth  of  Au- 
gust :  the  man  who  could  suffer  thousands  to  be 
massacred,  yet  weep  like  a  woman  over  the  death 
of  one  he  loved  ;  the  man  who  summed  up  his 
political  practice  in  that  famous  cry,  "  We  must 
dare,  and  again  dare,  and  without  end  dare ! " 
To  name  Danton  is  not  so  much  to  speak  of  a 
single  man  as  of  a  whole  section  of  the  people. 
He  was  great  because  he   represented   such   a 


DIES  IRjE.  193 

vast  mass  of  the  national  life ;  but  his  greatness 
was  disfigured  because  this  national  life  itself 
was  turbid  and  corrupt.  If  Robespierre  might 
be  called  the  abstract  idea  of  the  Revolution,  its 
will  was  Danton,  just  as  Marat  seems  to  have 
been  its  avenging  demon. 

No  man  of  the  Revolution  inspired  Madame 
Roland  with  such  instinctive  antipathy  as  Dan- 
ton.  Robespierre  she  admired,  before  their  com- 
mon party  had  split  into  the  hostile  camps  of 
Gironde  and  Mountain  ;  Marat,  whom  she  had 
never  seen,  she  long  held  to  be  a  kind  of  myth  or 
popular  scarecrow;  but  Danton  was  a  solid  fact, 
thrown  much  into  her  presence,  and  whom  she 
was  obliged  to  reckon  with.  "  I  never,"  says  she, 
"  beheld  so  repulsive  and  atrocious  a  counte- 
nance ;  and  although  I  argued  that  I  knew  noth- 
ing against  him,  and  that  the  most  honest  men 
necessarily  have  two  kinds  of  reputation  when 
party  strife  runs  high, — in  fact,  that  we  should 
not  go  by  appearances,  —  I  could  not  reconcile 
that  face  with  a  well-meaning  man.  I  never  saw 
anything  so  characteristic  of  brutal  passions,  of 
the  most  astounding  daring,  half-veiled  under  an 
assumption  of  jovial  good-nature." 

This  Commune  —  destined  to  take  so  leading 
and  sanguinary  a  part  in  the  subsequent  events 
of  the  Revolution  —  counted  among  its  members 
the  fierce  and  fickle  Tallien,  the  medical  student 

*3 


194  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Chaumette  (a  vampire-like  creature  who  seemed 
to  batten  on  blood),  and  Hebert,  destined  to  in- 
famous notoriety  as  the  Pere  Duchesne.  A  sig- 
nificant addition  was  made,  without  any  official 
election  whatever,  to  this  ominous  corporation  ; 
for  between  the  nth  of  August  and  the  2d  of 
September  Marat  stole  forth  from  the  holes  and 
cellars  where  he  lay  habitually  hidden,  and  took 
his  seat  in  the  Commune.  The  "  friend  of  the 
people  "  emerged  into  the  light  to  preach  the  ex- 
termination of  the  great  of  the  land.     In  Marat 

—  who  cultivated  hatred  as  a  fine  art,  and  cele- 
brated the  praise  of  murder ;  who  even  made 
Robespierre  quail  with  his  threats  of  burning 
tyrants  alive  in  their  palaces,  and  of  impaling 
senators  on  their  benches  in  the  Assembly  —  we 
recognize,  not  so  much  a  man,  as  the  dreadful 
summing  up  of  centuries  of  wrong.  To  under- 
stand, nay,  to  absolve  this  man  who  had  "  made 
himself  Anathema "  because  hate  consumed  him 
like  a  raging  sickness,  we  must  recall  those  til- 
lers of  the  soil  worked  like  galley-slaves  on  the 
high-roads,  those  trembling  peasants  who  ate . 
their  daily  bread  with  the  terror  of  criminals, 
those  poor  Bretons  who  considered  "  hanging  as 
a  deliverance  from  worse  evils."  We  must  recall 
these  wrongs  here  ;  for  the  blackest  days  of  the 
Revolution  —  the  sanguinary  days  of  September 

—  were  approaching  with  giant  strides. 


DIES  IRJZ.  195 

Such  were  the  elements  of  the  new  Commune, 
before  which  the  National  Assembly  faded.  The 
country  however  was  once  more  appealed  to,  and 
this  time  without  the  distinction  of  active  and 
passive  citizens, — which  had  been  an  oligarchical 
device  of  the  Constituent  Assembly,  whereby  the 
majority  of  the  French  nation  were  excluded  from 
the  suffrage,  on  the  ground  that  those  who  did 
not  pay  a  certain  minimum  in  taxes  were  not 
entitled  to  the  franchise.  Meanwhile  the  Giron- 
dins,  with  some  modifications  in  the  Cabinet,  had 
been  triumphantly  recalled  to  office.  Danton  be- 
came Minister  of  Justice,  the  geometrician  Monge 
of  the  Marine,  and  Pache  —  afterwards  nicknamed 
"  the  Tartuffe  of  Politics  "  by  Roland's  wife  —  was 
made  Minister  of  War  at  the  recommendation  of 
her  husband,  who  on  taking  office  began  by  renew- 
ing the  staff  in  most  of  the  Government  offices. 
Champagneux  he  made  General  Secretary,  the 
excellent  Bosc  Postmaster-General,  and  placed 
Lanthenas  in  the  Arts  and  Science  Department. 
Each  Minister  had  very  large  secret  funds  placed 
at  his  disposal,  employed  mostly  in  issuing  pa- 
pers, circulars,  and  placards  of  all  kinds,  the  walls 
being  made  the  great  vehicle  of  political  education. 
Louvet,  author  of  "  Faublas,"  became  the  editor  of 
Roland's  paper  the  "  Sentinel,"  most  of  the  politi- 
cal circulars  for  which  were  composed  by  Madame 
Roland   herself.     The  Minister  of  the   Interior, 


196  MADAME  POLAND. 

besides  seeing  to  the  free  circulation  of  provisions, 
had  in  fact  little  to  do -but  to  publish  manifestoes ; 
for  such  was  the  universal  jealousy  of  the  concen- 
tration of  power,  that  the  only  bodies  that  possessed 
any  were  those  who  could  lay  claim  to  none. 

What  kind  of  Government  should  France  now 
adopt,  was  the  question.  Madame  Roland  would 
fain  have  seen  a  Republic,  inhabited  by  citizens 
such  as  Plutarch  had  taught  her  to  love.  But 
she  forgot  the  dissimilarity  of  conditions,  —  that 
enormous  proletariat  of  France  (hungry,  violent, 
ignorant,  tumultuous)  about  to  be  enfranchised, 
and  to  affect  directly  the  future  working  of  politi- 
cal institutions.  Her  own  party,  the  Girondins, 
were  the  only  men  in  the  State  whose  culture 
would  have  rendered  them  fit  to  realize  such  a 
form  of  Government  in  its  purity ;  but  the  foreign 
invasion,  by  driving  the  people  into  a  frenzy  of 
rage  and  fear,  rendered  unpopular  all  measures 
but  those  of  violence  and  terror. 

Longwy  and  Verdun  had  been  taken  by  the 
Prussians;  Paris  lay  exposed  to  the  enemy;  in 
the  very  capital  a  portion  of  the  population  se- 
cretly rejoiced  at  these  defeats  of  the  French 
army.  A  panic  of  desperation  seized  the  people. 
They  did  not  tremble  for  their  country  alone ; 
they  trembled  still  more  for  that  newly-born  lib- 
erty, already  so  dearly  purchased.  "  Vivre  libre  ou 
mourir!"  became  the  universal  cry.     The  press 


DIES  IRjE.  197 

of  volunteers  to  the  public  places  to  inscribe  their 
names  on  the  altar  of  the  country  was  so  enor- 
mous that  numbers  had  to  be  sent  away.  It 
seemed  as  though  soldiers  sprang  from  the  ground, 

—  as  those  armed  men  were  fabled  to  have  done 
from  the  dragon's  teeth  of  Cadmus.  But  the  fact 
of  so  many  patriots  departing  for  the  frontier 
seemed  to  promise  Royalists  a  freer  field  for 
cabal.  In  the  latter  days  of  August  were  made 
numberless  arrests  of  nobles,  recalcitrant  priests, 
and  citizens  of  dubious  patriotism,  —  as  many  as 
five  thousand  being  seized  in  one  night.  The 
Abbaye,  St.  Pelagie,  the  Conciergerie,  and  other 
prisons  —  or  convents  suddenly  turned  into  such 

—  were  full  to  overflowing. 

On  the  2d  of  September,  1792,  the  inhabitants 
of  Paris  were  wrought  up  to  a  fever-heat  of  excite- 
ment. The  air  was  full  of  farewells  to  the  volun- 
teers departing  for  the  frontiers  ;  the  muffled  roll 
of  drums  filled  the  air  ;  an  enormous  black  flag 
waving  from  the  Town  fclall  seemed  to  prognosti- 
cate destruction  and  death  ;  the  clatter  of  horses 
and  arms  seized  in  the  nation's  name  was  heard 
as  they  were  being  taken  to  the  gates  ;  the  alarm- 
bells  were  pealing ;  volleys  of  cannon  thundered 
in  quicker  and  quicker  succession  ;  the  desperate 
looks  of  the  people,  the  sinister  rumors  afloat, — 
everything  foreboded  the  outbreak  of  some  immi- 
nent catastrophe. 


198  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Was  it  the  premeditated  act  of  the  Commune  ? 
Had  it  been  engendered  in  the  monstrous  imagi- 
nation of  Marat  ?  Or  had  Danton  —  with  his 
famous,  "  Let  my  name  be  branded  and  my 
memory  perish,  if  only  France  be  free  !  "  —  aimed 
the  first  blow  ?  Or,  again,  did  the  Paris  mob  of 
its  own  accord  turn  upon  its  prisoners,  vowing 
that  not  a  Royalist  should  survive  to  triumph  if 
the  enemy  entered  its  walls  ?  Each  successive 
historian  of  the  French  Revolution,  from  Michelet 
to  Lamartine  and  Louis  Blanc,  has  assigned  the 
hideous  responsibility  of  the  September  massacres 
to  different  sets  of  men.  But  there  is  sometimes 
a  fatal  conjunction  of  circumstances  in  which  dis- 
tinct causes  work  darkly  towards  the  same  events  ; 
and  it  seems  that  if  the  prison  massacres  were 
unhappily  projected  by  the  leaders  of  the  Com- 
mune, there  was  yet  no  distinct  organization  or 
directing  Committee,  but  that  the  people  itself, 
to  judge  from  the  conduct  of  some  of  its  organ- 
ized sections,  moved  by. an  impulse  of  rage  and 
despair  turned  furiously  upon  its  internal  foes, 
and  breaking  all  social  bonds,  constituted  itself 
judge  and  executioner  in  one. 

The  first  signal  for  the  horrible  crimes  about 
to  be  committed  was  the  transfer  of  some  twenty- 
four  prisoners,  chiefly  priests,  to  the  Abbaye,  the 
most  crowded  of  all  the  prisons.  This  transfer 
was  significant,  when  taken  in  connection  with 


DIES  IR.E.  199 

the  removal  of  the  jailer's  family  and  that  of 
several  men,  by  the  orders  of  Danton,  among 
whom  happened  to  be  Desmoulins'  schoolmaster. 
The  carriages  containing  these  priests,  followed 
by  an  escort  of  Marseillais  and  other  federate 
troops,  were  soon  surrounded  by  a  hooting,  yell- 
ing, menacing  crowd,  to  whom  a  cassock  was  the 
symbol  of  counter-revolution  and  civil  war ;  and 
whether  the  attack  first  began  on  the  outside,  or 
was  provoked  by  one  of  the  priests,  a  spark  was 
enough  to  blow  the  passions  of  the  multitude  into 
a  destructive  blaze. 

Then  were  the  prison  doors  burst  open.  Half- 
clad  men  armed  with  pikes,  with  a  strange  glare 
in  their  savage  hunger-bitten  faces,  swarmed  about 
the  court-yards.  Prisoners  were  at  first  simply 
hauled  from  their  cells,  dragged  along  the  passa- 
ges, driven  pell-mell  into  the  court-yards,  and  cut 
down  ruthlessly  like  grass  falling  beneath  the 
mower's  scythe.  Some,  delirious  with  fear,  flung 
themselves  of  their  own  accord  on  the  weapons  of 
their  executioners  ;  others  resisted  to  the  death, 
and  fell  pierced  by  successive  wounds.  To  put 
some  kind  of  limit  to  these  ghastly  butcheries,  a 
kind  of  infernal  Tribunal  was  at  last  instituted  in 
a  gloomy  vault,  with  self-appointed  judge  and 
jury,  —  where  Maillard,  dread  arbiter  of  Septem- 
ber, sat  with  book  and  inkstand  before  him  to  try 
culprits,  pronounce  judgments,  acquit  a  few,  and 


200  MADAME  ROLAND. 

send  the  mass  to  destruction.  In  this  carnival  of 
death  there  were  some  deeds  over  which  history, 
in  mercy  to  mankind,  should  draw  the  veil,  —  as 
the  cruel  murder  and  dastardly  usage  of  the  Prin- 
cess de  Lamballe,  whose  head,  severed  from  the 
body,  was  stuck  on  a  pike  and  paraded  by  a  wretch 
through  the  streets  of  Paris  and  in  front  of  the 
Temple  itself,  before  the  sickened  eyes  of  Louis 
XVI.  There  were  also  deeds  of  devotion  and 
filial  heroism  such  as  humanize  these  otherwise 
demoniacal  proceedings.  Thus  Mademoiselle  de 
Sombreuil  saved  her  father's  life  by  enfolding  him 
in  her  arms  and  making  her  body  a  rampart  for 
him  ;  she  even  disarmed  the  murderers  by  her 
courage,  beauty,  and  despair.  But  not  content 
with  the  actual  horrors  of  the  scene,  historians 
have  not  scrupled  to  add  to  them,  and  the  story 
that  the  unhappy  girl  was  forced  to  drink  a  tum- 
bler of  blood  to  redeem  her  father  is  proved  to 
have  grown  out  of  the  fact,  that,  on  having  fainted, 
one  of  the  ferocious  band  hurried  to  bring  a  glass 
of  water,  into  which,  as  she  took  it,  there  fell  a 
drop  of  blood  from  his  sanguinary  hand. 

These  "  bacchanals  of  blood  "  lasted  from  three 
to  four  days  and  nights.  Prison  after  prison  was 
invaded  and  emptied  of  its  human  contents;  the 
appetite  seemed  to  grow  with  what  it  fed  upon ; 
the  massacres  became  more  indiscriminate  as  they 
proceeded.     And  was  there  no  power  in  Paris  to 


DIES  IRjE.  20I 

arrest  this  defilement  of  the  cause  of  freedom  ? 
Alas  !  the  power  in  whose  hands  the  real  authority, 
and  not  its  shadow,  was  vested,  —  the  Commune 
and  the  armed  sections  commanded  by  Santerre 
the  Brewer,  —  took  no  steps  to  stop  the  massacres. 
This  fact,  among  other  indications,  seems  a  proof 
that  they  originated  and  abetted  them.  And 
where,  it  may  be  asked,  was  Roland,  the  Minister 
of  the  Interior,  all  this  time  ? 

On  Sunday,  the  2d  of  September,  Madame 
Roland  tells  us,  towards  five  o'clock  in  the  after- 
noon,—  about  the  time  when  the  prisons  were 
invested,  —  she  was  alone  at  home,  when  the 
Ministerial  residence  was  surrounded  by  about 
two  hundred  men,  loudly  calling  for  the  Minister 
and  for  arms.  On  their  refusing  to  go,  after 
having  been  vainly  assured  that  Roland  was  not 
in,  the  brave  woman  sent  some  of  the  protesting 
servants  to  ask  ten  of  the  number  to  come  and 
speak  to  her.  Her  calmness,  her  beauty,  her 
high  intrepidity  must  have  produced  something 
like  awe  in  those  rough  sans-culottes,  who  usually 
eyed  with  suspicion  every  person  less  tattered 
than  themselves.  Quietly  inquiring  on  what 
errand  they  had  come,  and  being  told  that  they 
were  citizens  going  to  Verdun  who  wanted  arms, 
she  pointed  out  to  them  that  the  Minister  of  War 
and  not  of  the  Interior  was  the  person  to  whom 
they  should  have   addressed  themselves.     They 


202  MADAME  ROLAND. 

had  been  there  already,  muttered  they;  these 
Ministers  were  —  traitors  !  They  demanded  to 
see  Roland.  Matters  wore  a  suspicious  look, 
when  one  remembers  the  date ;  but  Madame 
Roland,  keeping  her  superb  self-possession,  pro- 
posed to  take  them  over  the  place  herself, — 
adding  further,  that,  if  they  had  to  make  com- 
plaints, it  was  to  the  Commune  they  should  be 
addressed,  or  that  if  they  wished  to  see  Roland, 
he  was  to  be  found  at  a  Cabinet  Meeting  held  at 
the  Hotel  de  la  Marine.  Thereupon  they  retired. 
Madame  Roland,  stepping  on  to  a  balcony,  saw  a 
furious  demagogue,  with  his  shirt-sleeves  rolled 
up  above  the  elbow,  brandishing  a  sword,  and 
declaiming  against  the  treachery  of  the  Ministers. 
After  some  more  parley,  the  mob  retired  to  the 
beating  of  drums,  taking  one  of  the  valets  as  a 
hostage. 

Some  days  afterwards  Madame  Roland  learned 
that  Danton  had  gone  to  Potion,  and  in  his  brusk 
way  cried,  "  Do  you  know  what  they  have  done 
now  ?  Made  out  an  order  of  arrest  against  Ro- 
land !"  "Who  has?"  demanded  Petion.  "Oh, 
that  committee  of  enrages.  I  have  taken  the 
order  ;  here  it  is.  We  cannot  allow  them  to  act 
thus  !  The  devil !  Against  a  Member  of  the 
Council,  too  ! "  Petion  took  the  order,  read  it, 
and  giving  it  back  to  him  with  a  smile  said,  "  Let 
be ;  it  will  produce  a  good   effect."     "  Produce 


DIES  IR^E.  203 

a  good  effect!"  said  Danton,  curiously  examining 
the  Mayor  ;  "  no,  I  cannot  allow  it." 

Madame  Roland  very  naturally  connects  the 
two  hundred  sans-culottes  with  the  order  of  ar- 
rest, which  she  considers  was  only  rendered 
abortive  by  Roland's  absence  from  home.  Sub- 
sequent events  seem  to  justify  her  supposition. 
But  in  her  antipathy  to  Danton  she  suspects  him 
of  complicity  ;  whereas  his  conduct  proves,  on 
the  contrary,  that  he  would  have  wished  the 
Girondins  for  allies,  if  they  would  have  suffered 
him  to  carry  on  the  Revolution  after  his  own 
method;  but  this  their  humanity  revolted  from. 

This  order  of  arrest  against  Roland  ;  the  two 
emissaries  of  the  Commune  nominally  appointed 
to  protect  Petion's  precious  person,  but  in  reality 
to  mount  sentinel  over  him ;  the  powerlessness 
of  the  Members  of  the  Assembly,  who  had  no 
armed  force  at  their  beck  and  call ;  Madame  Ro- 
land's remark  to  Bancal  on  the  5th,  "  We  are 
under  the  knife  of  Robespierre  and  Marat,"  —  all 
this  helps  to  explain  the  else  inexplicable  quies- 
cence of  the  Minister  of  the  Interior. 

But  a  change  had  come  over  the  face  of  the 
Revolution.  The  massacres,  it  may  be  said,  were 
in  substance  not  nearly  as  bad  as  the  atrocities 
over  and  over  again  committed,  as  history  re- 
cords. But  atrocities  committed  in  the  name  of 
liberty  and  fraternity,  —  there  is  the  pity  of  it ! 


204  MADAME  ROLAND. 

By  them,  declares  the  humane  Michelet,  the 
cause  of  freedom  in  Europe  was  retarded  for  a 
century.  And  well  may  it  be  so  ;  for  all  the 
best  minds  began  to  lose  faith  in  this  uprising  of 
the  French  nation,  which  they  had  hailed  as  the 
dawning  of  a  new  era.  With  the  rivers  of  blood 
spilt  so  ruthlessly  they  sullied  the  pure,  new-born 
idea  of  equality  ;  with  the  red  glare  of  their  ter- 
ror they  blotted  out  the  clear  sunrise  that  had 
promised  a  better  day.  "  You  know  my  enthusi- 
asm for  the  Revolution,"  was  Madame  Roland's 
cry  to  Bancal.  "  Well,  I  am  ashamed  of  it ! 
Scoundrels  have  defiled  it !  It  is  become  hide- 
ous !  .  .  .  To  remain  in  power  is  degrading  j 
yet  we  are  not  allowed  to  leave  Paris.  ..." 

Already,  on  the  nth  of  September,  Roland 
wished  to  send  in  his  resignation.  "  But,"  said 
his  wife,  "  Brissot  has  been  scolding  me  terribly, 
and  declaring  that  for  my  husband  to  quit  the 
Administration  at  such  a  juncture  would  prove  a 
public  calamity." 


CHAPTER   XIII. 


THE   REPUBLIC. 


The  first  year  of  the  Republic  commenced  on 
the  2 1  st  of  September,  1792,  after  the  Conven- 
tion had  replaced  the  Legislative  Assembly.  In 
the  course  of  a  few  months  its  sittings  were  to  be 
held  in  the  Palace  of  the  Kings  of  France,  re- 
christened  Palace  of  the  Nation.  The  Men  of 
the  Mountain,  the  "  Frogs  of  the  Plain  "  (as  the 
moderate  party  was  nick-named),  and  the  elo- 
quent Gironde  were  closely  confronted  in  the 
royal  theatre  ;  and  from  the  galleries,  whence  of 
yore  great  seigneurs  and  high-born  beauties  had 
looked  on,  there  now  rang  the  applause  or  threats 
of  savage  sans-culottes. 

The  Republic  had  been  ushered  in  by  the  first 
triumph  of  the  French  arms.  Dumouriez  had 
been  victorious  atValmy;  Custine  occupied  Spire, 
Treves,  and  Mayence  ;  the  over-boastful  Duke  of 
Brunswick,  instead  of  handing  Paris  over  to  mili- 
tary execution,  quietly  evacuated  French  territory. 
The  signal  heroism  of  its  untried  volunteers  re- 
stored to  France  some  of  the  lustre  which  the 
prison  massacres  had  obscured. 


206  MADAME   ROLAND. 

These  massacres  had  opened  an  abyss  between 
the  leaders  of  the  Gironde  and  the  three  great 
revolutionary  chiefs,  Danton,  Marat,  Robespierre. 
The  last,  as  often  before,  had  kept  personally 
aloof  from  a  movement  which  he  may  have  de- 
plored, but  of  which  he  was  now  appropriating 
the  advantages.  The  Girondins,  so  far  from  imi- 
tating this  crafty  (or  statesman-like)  policy,  raised 
the  hue-and-cry  against  the  Septemberers.  Ma- 
dame Roland,  who  in  her  girlhood  had  endured 
an  agony  of  pity  at  the  racking  of  two  criminals, 
now  suffered  tortures  at  this  desecration  which 
liberty  had  undergone.  Burning  with  indigna- 
tion, she  exhorted  her  husband  to  protest  against 
these  "  abominable  crimes,"  to  appeal  to  the  As- 
sembly to  put  a  stop  to  further  repetitions,  and 
clear  himself  of  the  dishonor  of  tolerating  them 
by  his  silence,  should  it  be  at  the  risk  of  himself 
being  struck  by  the  dagger  of  assassins.  Al- 
ready, on  the  3d  of  September,  Roland  addressed 
a  remonstrance  to  the  Assembly,  couched  in 
terms  which  seem  very  mild  compared  to  the 
searing  denunciations  in  his  wife's  Memoirs. 
Yet  this  address  was  everywhere  applauded  as  a 
miracle  of  courage,  —  too  conclusive  proof  that 
Terror,  like  the  Sword  of  Damocles,  was  already 
suspended  above  the  heads  of  the  Parisians,  and 
that  for  fear  of  being  suspected  of  Moderatism 
the  population  was  satisfied  to  let  the  most  vio- 


THE  REPUBLIC.  207 

lent  take  the  lead.  Roland's  letter  had  been 
hailed  with  delight  by  the  Assembly,  who  or- 
dered its  publication  and  dissemination  in  the 
provinces. 

Proclamations  and  addresses  were  of  little  avail^ 
however,  unless  they  could  be  reinforced  by  de- 
cisive measures.  These  decisive  measures,  for 
which  the  executive  had  no  force  at  command, 
Roland  had  not  the  daring  to  take.  One  way, 
and  one  only,  remained  open  by  which  the  Minis- 
try could  still  have  seized  the  reins  of  govern- 
ment,—  the  one  which  Danton  pointed  out  to 
Madame  Roland  through  Fabre  d'Eglantine,  his 
mouth-piece  :  institute  a  dictatorship,  to  be  vested 
in  the  hands  of  the  Executive  Council,  and  exer- 
cised by  its  president,  —  a  measure  foreshadowing 
the  subsequent  dictatorship  of  Robespierre,  Saint 
Just,  and  Couthon.  The  proposition  was  re- 
ceived in  mute  disdain  by  Madame  Roland,  as 
were  the  many  other  advances  made  from  time  to 
time  by  this  Hercules  of  the  Tribunes. 

She  shrank  from  this  man  —  whom  she  pictured 
as  a  u  Sardanapalus,  dagger  in  hand  "  —  with  uncon- 
trollable loathing.  Between  these  two  beings  there 
was  radical  antagonism  of  nature.  The  woman  — 
type  of  the  Republic  such  as  poets  have  dreamed 
her  —  possessed  all  the  virtues  and  talents  that 
adorn  life ;  possessed,  above  all,  a  profound  hu- 
manity, shown  throughout  life,  and  which  did  not 


208  MADAME  ROLAND. 

forsake  her  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold  itself.  The 
man,  —  embodiment  of  the  elemental  force  of  the 
Revolution,  and  like  it  a  compound  of  horrors  and 
sublimities,  —  if  guilty  of  brutal  and  violent  deeds, 
had  yet  that  signal  merit  of  thoroughly  grasping 
the  peril  of  the  situation,  and  of  being  ready  to 
sacrifice  all  personal  considerations  for  the  cause 
he  had  at  heart. 

If  ever  in  her  life  Madame  Roland  was  greatly 
at  fault,  she  was  so  in  her  persistent  repulse  of 
Danton.  Considering  the  tremendous  issues  at 
stake  and  the  critical  position  of  France,  she 
would  not  only  have  shown  far  greater  political 
sagacity,  but  have  proved  more  humane  in  the 
long  run,  to  have  let  the  dead  bury  their  dead, 
and  to  have  averted  the  greater  terrors  to  come 
by  a  truce  with  Danton.  The  Gironde,  with 
Danton  for  its  ally,  might  have  triumphantly 
carried  out  its  programme,  and  so  have  saved  the 
Republic.  The  Gironde,  with  Danton  for  its 
adversary,  was  helplessly  given  over  to  the  Hebert- 
ists  and  to  Robespierre ;  and  its  fall  ultimately 
entailed  that  of  the  Republic.  But  Madame 
Roland  knew  not  how  to  make  a  compromise 
with  evil. 

After  the  massacres  of  September,  Roland's 
wife  succeeded  in  inspiring  the  whole  party  with 
her  hatred  of  Danton.  Her  voice  urged  them 
to  the  attack ;  and  whenever  they  slackened  in 


THE  REPUBLIC.  209 

their  zeal,  one  man,  over  whom  she  possessed 
illimitable  influence,  —  the  proud,  intrepid  Buzot, 
—  renewed  the  onset  in  the  Convention. 

The  Girondins  had  been  universally  returned 
by  the  provinces.  Paris  manifested  its  bias  by 
electing  Danton,  Robespierre,  Collot-d'Herbois, 
Billaud-Varenne,  and  one  of  the  main  instigators 
of  the  September  massacres,  Marat.  Parties  at 
this  time  seemed  pretty  equally  balanced  in  the 
Chamber ;  if  anything,  the  Gironde  had  the  ma- 
jority. Their  members  sat  on  all  the  Committees, 
and  Petion  the  Mayor  was  their  close  ally.  They 
had  now  arrived  at  that  point,  reached  by  every 
revolutionary  party  in  turn,  when  they  would  fain 
have  piloted  the  vessel  of  State  into  harbor.  Their 
aim  became  to  consolidate  the  Republic  by  evolv- 
ing the  reign  of  law  from  the  chaos  of  anarchy. 
The  Revolution  had  been  a  violent  transition  from 
an  old  order  of  things  to  a  new  one,  and,  its  main 
objects  being  attained,  they  deemed  the  time  ripe 
for  a  reorganization  of  the  government  in  more 
peaceable  fashion.  With  this  object  they  drew 
up  an  Appeal  to  the  Convention  to  recommend 
the  prosecution  of  the  instigators  of  the  September 
massacres,  setting  forth  that  their  principal  objects 
were  to  dissolve  the  Commune,  to  decree  in  due 
form  the  election  of  a  new  Municipality,  and  to 
reorganize  the  National  Guards,  whose  Com- 
mander-General was  henceforth  to  be  elected  by 
14 


210  MADAME  ROLAND. 

the  united  sections.  All  these  measures  were 
advocated  by  Madame  Roland  ;  but  in  order  to 
succeed,  a  threatening  obstacle  had  to  be  sur- 
mounted,—  the  triple  revolutionary  power  ;  Dan- 
ton,  Marat,  Robespierre. 

But  lack  of  courage  was  not  the  failure  of  the 
Girondins.  Insufficiently  prepared  with  proofs 
for  so  momentous  a  proceeding,  they  now  im- 
peached the  three  formidable  Montagnards  of 
aspiring  to  the  Dictatorship,  and  sought  to  make 
them  responsible  for  the  murderous  work  in  the 
prisons.  The  most  important  of  these  accusa- 
tions was  that  against  Robespierre  by  Louvet. 
The  prophetic  spirit  of  the  Gironde  instinctively 
knew  its  future  destroyer,  but  in  default  of  con- 
clusive proofs  could  not  hope  to  shake  his  enor- 
mous popularity.  Robespierre,  in  a  profoundly- 
considered  discourse,  wherein  he  sketched  the 
whole  progress  of  the  Revolution,  turned  his 
defence  into  a  victory.  Outside  the  Chamber 
indignant  crowds  clamored  for  their  favorites. 
The  failure  of  the  indictment  meant  the  fall  of 
the  Girondins. 

Their  efforts  to  obtain  a  provincial  guard  to 
protect  the  Convention  was  another  cause  of 
their  growing  unpopularity  in  Paris.  After-events 
completely  justified  the  wisdom  of  this  demand. 
In  the  absence  of  a  properly-constituted  govern- 
ment, with  a  Commune  arrogating  to  itself  all 


THE  REPUBLIC.  211 

the  practical  functions  of  one,  and  a  National 
Guard  whose  commander  was  appointed  by  the 
most  violent  party  of  the  moment,  the  Convention 
was  left  entirely  at  the  mercy  of  the  most  tur- 
bulent faction  of  the  population  of  Paris.  The 
moment  a  mob,  using  its  "  sacred  right  of  insur- 
rection" chose  to  invest  and  threaten  the  repre- 
sentatives of  the  nation,  what  resistance  could 
they  offer  ? 

Robespierre,  by  attacking  this  demand  for  a 
provincial  guard,  enhanced  his  own  popularity, 
while  the  accusation  of  federalism  began  to  be 
urged  with  increased  plausibility  against  the 
Gironde.  In  the  mean  while,  there  came  a  res- 
pite to  these  unfortunate  dissensions  of  patriots 
on  the  arrival  in  Paris  of  the  victorious  General 
Dumouriez.  All  parties  Vied  with  each  other  in 
welcoming  him.  With  the  object  of  bringing 
about  a  reconciliation  between  Danton  and  Ma- 
dame Roland,  Dumouriez  came  to  dine  with  the 
latter,  and  with  some  embarrassment  presented 
her  with  a  magnificent  bouquet  of  oleander.  She 
replied  with  a  neatly-turned  speech,  and  the 
numerous  guests  looked  upon  the  little  incident 
as  of  good  augury.  Vergniaud  alone  was  not 
touched  by  the  hope  and  joy  of  the  moment,  did 
not  share  the  general  delight  at  the  realization 
of  their  ardently-desired  Republic.  With  his 
veiled  look  turned  inwards,  he  sat  silently  brood- 


212  MADAME  ROLAND. 

ing,  and  seeing  the  radiant  hostess  drop  some 
petals  from  the  nosegay  into  her  wine,  he  remarked 
half-aloud  to  Barbaroux,  "  Not  flowers,  but  cypress- 
leaves  should  we  drop  into  our  glasses  to-night. 
In  drinking  to  the  Republic,  whose  cradle  has 
been  dipped  in  the  blood  of  September,  who  knows 
but  that  we  are  drinking  to  our  own  death  ? 
Never  mind  !  if  this  were  my  blood,  I  would  still 
drain  it  to  liberty  and  equality !  "  No  guest  but 
he,  the  poet-politician,  saw  the  inexorable  shadow 
in  the  festively-lighted  room  which  rang  to  the 
cries  of  "  Long  live  the  Republic  !  " 

So  bright  a  scene  this  of  the  14th  of  October! 
Roland's  wife  presided,  brilliant  with  beauty  and 
eloquence  to-night,  with  her  hair  as  usual  flowing 
in  dark,  abundant  locks  almost  down  to  her  gir- 
dle, worn  a  la  Romainc,  knotted  on  one  side,  over 
what  was  then  called  a  republican  gown,  whose 
white,  graceful  folds  fitted  the  shape  closely  from 
head  to  foot,  —  a  dress  "  altogether  ravishing  in 
taste."  Beside  her  sat  the  successful  Dumouriez, 
gallant  and  insinuating  in  manner,  and  the  slight, 
insignificant-looking  Louvet,  —  fit  in  turn,  says 
Madame  Roland,  M  to  make  Catiline  tremble  in 
the  Senate  or  to  dine  with  the  Graces,"  —  who 
kept  up  that  flow  of  wit  and  sparkling  repartee 
which  rarely  forsake  the  sociable  Frenchman. 
There,  too,  in  a  blue  coat  with  high  turn-down 
collar,  a  red  waistcoat  with  wide  lapels,  and  shirt- 


THE  REPUBLIC.  213 

frill  of  fine  muslin,  his  hair  carefully  dressed  and 
powdered  (though  powder  had  gone  out  as  aristo- 
cratic), was  the  sad,  high-souled  Buzot,  suffering 
his  glances  to  linger  too  long  on  those  dark, 
expressive  eyes  of  his  hostess,  —  glances  whose 
perilous  sweetness  came  with  the  shock  of  a  rev- 
elation. Beside  him  the  austere  Roland,  with 
his  careless  dress  and  rasping  voice,  looked  still 
older  than  he  was.  There,  too,  among  others, 
were  the  humane  Brissot,  and  Barbaroux  with  his 
Antinous-like  head.  Oh,  gifted,  high-minded 
group,  so  full  of  hope  and  aspiration,  make  merry 
to-night !  let  your  glasses  clink ;  celebrate  the 
Republic !  But  a  short  year  hence,  when  the 
leaves  are  falling  again,  and  where  will  you  be? 
Scattered  yourselves,  like  the  leaves  of  autumn, 
in  lonely  places,  battling  with  the  midnight 
storm,  hiding  in  wells  and  caverns,  or  shut  up  in 
prison  till  the  hour  of  execution  shall  strike  ! 
She,  too,  this  noble  hostess,  will  be  daily  awaiting 
her  death-warrant,  and  will  then  confess  —  what 
otherwise  might  have  gone  to  the  grave  with  her 
—  that  she  too  came  to  know  that  "  terrible  pas- 
sion," so  long  delayed  in  her  life,  which  at  last 
seized  upon  her  as  with  the  accumulated  force  of 
years.  In  the  clash  and  clang  of  the  Revolution, 
when  all  the  faculties  were  stimulated  to  the  ut- 
most, was  born  this  bitter-sweet  love,  "  heavy  as 
remorse,"  inevitable  as  fate. 


214  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Madame  Roland  first  met  Buzot  in  1791,  and 
after  her  return  to  La  Platiere  she  had  main- 
tained a  correspondence  with  both  Robespierre 
and  him,  but  more  regularly  with  the  latter. 
Their  relations  became  more  intimate  after  the 
meeting  of  the  Convention  in  the  autumn  of 
1792.  In  a  description  of  his  character  written 
by  her  on  a  circular,  closely-folded  sheet  of  paper, 
and  which,  cut  to  the  size  of  Buzot's  miniature, 
was  carefully  placed  between  its  canvas  and  exte- 
rior cardboard,  Madame  Roland  says :  "  Nature 
has  endowed  him  with  an  affectionate  heart,  a 
proud  spirit,  and  a  lofty  character.  ...  A  ten- 
dency to  melancholy  was  aggravated  by  griefs  of 
the  heart."  In  his  public  career  he  was  ever 
stanch  to  his  principles  ;  for  when  danger  at- 
tended the  utterance  of  advanced  political  opin- 
ions he  did  so  as  unflinchingly  as  Robespierre, 
and  when  it  became  equally  dangerous  to  oppose 
the  violent  excesses  of  the  Revolution  he  had  the 
daring  to  do  so.  Buzot  was  tall,  handsome,  and 
sensitive.  By  the  scrupulous  neatness  of  his 
dress  he  was  a  standing  protest  against  the  inde- 
cent neglect  of  appearance  then  in  fashion.  To 
him  a  Republic,  if  anything,  meant  the  general 
lifting  of  the  social  standard,  not  its  degradation 
to  the  lowest  level. 

Between  these  two  natures  —  as,  indeed,  be- 
tween all  whose  love  has  the  inevitableness  of 


THE  REPUBLIC.  21 5 

fate  —  there  was  a  "birth-bond."  They  thrilled 
with  the  same  aspirations,  the  same  hopes,  and 
the  same  sorrows.  To  know  each  other's 
thoughts  they  had  no  need  of  speech..  If  Ma- 
dame Roland  possessed  more  originality  and 
genius  than  Buzot,  she  gloried  in  the  fearlessness 
of  the  man  who  invariably  fought  her  battles  by 
leading  the  attack  in  the  Convention. 

Doomed  passion-flower  of  love  to  have  bloomed 
in  so  stormy  a  time  !  Brief  gleams  of  tenderness 
illumining  the  lurid  back-ground  of  Revolution 
and  civil  war !  Flashes  of  love  to  be  quenched 
at  the  stern  voice  of  duty  and  self-sacrifice ! 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

MADAME    ROLAND    AT   THE    BAR    OF    THE 
CONVENTION. 

Dumouriez's  attempts  to  bring  about  a  reconcili- 
ation between  Madame  Roland  and  Danton 
proved  a  failure.  Knowing  that  the  latter  would 
be  in  the  adjoining  box,  the  General  had  offered 
to  escort  her  to  the  Opera,  where  a  brilliant  re- 
ception awaited  him.  Not  caring  to  be  seen  in 
public  with  this  gay  Lothario  of  a  Dumouriez, 
she  made  some  excuse,  but  afterwards  decided 
on  going  with  Vergniaud.  About  to  enter  the 
Ministerial  box,  she  perceived  the  bulky  Danton, 
Fabre  d'Eglantine,  and  some  ladies  she  thought 
"of  questionable  appearance,"  who,  however,  it 
appears,  were  Danton's  wife  and  her  friends. 
Enough ;  she  retired  without  being  seen  by  the 
occupants,  whose  backs  were  turned  to  her. 
Thus  was  lost  the  last  chance  of  healing  this  un- 
fortunate breach,  which,  if  justified  by  inherent 
incompatibility  of  temperaments,  proved  so  dis- 
astrous in  its  consequences. 

Although  for  patriotic  reasons  Danton  was  anx- 
ious for  a   conciliation,  and   entertained  a  high 


AT  THE  BAR  OF  THE  CONVENTION.      2\J 

regard  for  Roland  and  much  admiration  for  his 
wife's  genius,  he  had,  after  his  careless  fashion, 
given  the  latter  a  wound  difficult  for  a  woman  to 
forgive.  Roland  had  been  elected  to  the  Con- 
vention for  the  Department  of  the  Somme,  and 
his  wife  urged  him  to  resign  his  ministerial  post, 
the  responsibility  of  which  —  without  the  au- 
thority which  should  have  attended  it  —  preyed 
visibly  on  his  health.  But  the  majority  of  the 
Convention,  considering  his  services  of  the  great- 
est importance,  —  and,  indeed,  he  was  indefatiga- 
ble in  attending  to  the  circulation  of  grain  and 
the  due  provisioning  of  Paris,  —  pressed  him  to 
remain  in  office.  It  was  then  that  Danton  ex- 
claimed in  his  forcible  way,  "  Why  not  invite 
Madame  Roland  to  the  Ministry,  too  ?  Every- 
one knows  that  Roland  is  not  alone  in  office." 
The  deputies  murmured  disapprobation,  and  one 
of  them  very  sensibly  remarked  that  it  could  not 
signify  to  the  country  whether  Roland  had  an 
intelligent  wife  capable  of  assisting  him  with  ad- 
vice, or  whether  the  services  he  rendered  emana- 
ted from  himself  alone.  "This  petty  attack,"  he 
said,  "  is  unworthy  of  Danton  ;  but  I  will  not 
imply  with  him  that  it  is  the  wife  of  Roland  who 
rules,  for  that  would  be  accusing  him  of  incapac- 
ity." There  was  much  applause  ;  and  the  result 
was  that  Roland  remained  in  office. 

Nowhere    is    the    great    political    importance 


218  MADAME  ROLAND. 

attributed  by  contemporaries  to  Madame  Roland 
so  decisively  shown  as  here.  She  had  now  been 
pushed  to  the  very  forefront  of  the  Revolution, 
visible  to  all  eyes,  a  mark  for  envy,  to  become 
the  favorite  target  for  the  venomous  calumnies 
of  Marat  and  the  Pere  Duchesne.  Her  co-opera- 
tion in  composing  and  promulgating  the  numer- 
ous writings  by  which  Roland  sought  to  influence 
public  opinion  could  not  remain  unknown.  The 
office  of  one  paper,  "U  Esprit  Public,"  was  be- 
lieved to  be  under  her  management,  and  its 
articles  "  due  to  her  prodigious  facility "  (as 
worded  in  Amar's  subsequent  indictment).  Yet, 
judging  from  her  previous  life  and  her  own  as- 
sertions, she  had  not  that  last  infirmity  of  noble 
minds,  the  thirst  for  fame,  but  was  impelled  to 
action  by  zeal  for  the  Revolution,  and  because, 
as  she  admits,  there  was  no  part  that  pleased  her 
so  well  as  to  be  a  kind  of  human  Providence. 

When  the  trial  of  Louis  XVI.  was  preparing, 
a  strange  disclosure,  which  contributed  not  a  lit- 
tle to  excite  and  envenom  opinion,  was  made  to 
the  Minister  of  the  Interior.  A  locksmith,  for- 
merly in  the  King's  confidence,  acquainted  Ro- 
land with  the  existence  of  an  iron  chest  containing 
important  State  papers.  To  hurry  to  the  Tuiler- 
ies,  empty  the  contents  of  the  chest  into  a  napkin, 
carry  them  home  to  his  wife  and  examine  them 
with  her,  was  the  Minister's  first  care.     In  this 


AT  THE  BAR  OF  THE  CONVENTION.      219 

step  one  seems  to  recognize  Madame  Roland's 
impulsiveness ;  and  nothing  could  have  been 
more  imprudent.  Instead  of  calling  together  a 
commission  legally  empowered  to  make  a  report 
on  these  documents,  Roland  first  carefully  looked 
them  over,  docketed  and  affixed  his  seal  to  each 
bundle,  and  not  till  then  handed  them  over  to  the 
Convention.  This  arbitrary  proceeding  cannot 
be  justified,  though  he  may  have  feared  that 
these  papers  would  be  tampered  with  by  un- 
scrupulous Committees,  capable  of  interpolating 
some  documentary  evidence  to  serve  their  private 
animosity.  Had  not  some  vindictive  opponent 
sought  to  ruin  Brissot  by  the  trifling  forgery  of 
one  letter  in  a  name  resembling  his,  which  would 
have  convicted  him  of  traitorous  designs? — al- 
though Brissot,  conscious  of  rectitude,  always 
scorned  to  defend  himself  against  the  vile  charges 
which  undermined  his  reputation. 

Roland  had  now  given  a  handle  to  miscon- 
struction, of  which  his  enemies  were  not  slow  to 
avail  themselves.  The  documents  turned  out  to 
be  most  compromising  to  the  King  at  this  critical 
juncture,  showing,  as  they  did,  that  he  had  never 
entertained  serious  intentions  of  conforming  to 
the  Constitution  ;  that  he  was  entirely  in  the 
hands  of  fanatic  priests,  leaders  of  the  Counter- 
revolution ;  that  he  sought  to  reign  by  a  system 
of  corruption  ;  that  the  men  he  hated  most  were 


220  MADAME  ROLAND. 

precisely  those  who  would  have  saved  his  throne, 
—  Necker,  Mirabeau,  and  Lafayette  ;  and  that  he 
had  secretly  negotiated  with  the  Cabinets  of 
Europe  for  the  invasion  of  France. 

Denunciations  and  libels  of  Roland  became  the 
order  of  the  day.  The  rabid  Chabot  announced 
with  a  consequential  air  in  the  Convention  that 
a  certain  Viard  had  discovered  a  conspiracy  of 
Royalists  in  England,  who  counted  on  saving  the 
King  and  re-establishing  the  Monarchy  with  the 
assistance  of  Roland  and  Fauchet  !  Shouts  and 
laughter  answered  him.  No  one  —  certainly  not 
Danton  nor  Robespierre  —  believed  in  the  long- 
winded  tale  of  this  unknown  Viard,  whom  the 
Committee  of  Surveillance  had  dragged  from 
obscurity  to  pit  him  against  a  man  who,  whatever 
his  shortcomings,  was  the  soul  of  honor.  After 
Roland  had  been  called,  and  declared  that  he  had 
never  seen  or  had  any  relations  whatever  with 
the  persons  with  whom  he  was  pretended  to  be  in 
correspondence,  it  was  deemed  advisable  that,  as 
her  name  had  been  dragged  in,  Madame  Roland 
should  be  cited  to  the  bar. 

Here,  on  this  circumscribed  arena  shaken  by 
such  fierce  debates,  all  members  turning  towards 
her,  Madame  Roland  might  distinguish  amid  a 
confused  mass  of  men  the  wintry  face  of  Robes- 
pierre, Marat,  the  Angel  of  Death  Saint  Just, 
leonine  Danton,  Condorcet,  Brissot,  the  waspish 


AT  THE  BAR  OF  THE  CONVENTION.      221 

Guadet,  and  above  all  the  others,  brave,  manly- 
hearted  Buzot,  who  thrilled  at  the  sight  of  her  as 
she  entered  with  that  proud,  erect  bearing  of 
hers,  such  mingled  dignity  and  sweetness  in  her 
expression  that  the  Convention  broke  into  thun- 
ders of  applause.  When  the  tumult  subsided, 
she  explained  that  Viard,  of  whom  she  knew 
nothing,  had  obtained  an  interview  with  her 
under  the  pretext  of  giving  her  an  account  of 
what  he  had  seen  in  London  ;  that  after  having 
let  him  say  his  say,  she  had  expressed  astonish- 
ment at  his  not  communicating  such  important 
matters  to  the  Minister  instead  of  herself,  who 
was  only  on  the  outskirts  of  affairs.  "  Without 
having  too  practised  an  eye,"  she  proceeded,  "  I 
concluded  that  the  gentleman  was  a  person  who 
came  more  to  probe  our  thoughts  than  for  any- 
thing else."  Her  whole  speech,  necessarily  un- 
premeditated, was  so  lucid  and  full  of  tact  that  it 
was  followed  by  prolonged  applause,  and  the 
honors  of  the  sitting  were  voted  to  the  Citoyenne 
Roland.  As  she  passed  through  the  House,  her 
exit  was  accompanied  by  continued  plaudits  ; 
only  Marat,  inaccessible  to  admiration,  growling 
dissent. 

In  the  mean  while,  debates  concerning  the  trial 
of  Louis  almost  exclusively  occupied  the  deputies. 
Gironde  and  Mountain  were  agreed  in  recognizing 
the  King's   guilt.     His   appeal  to  the   foreigner 


222  MADAME  ROLAND. 

was  a  crime  against  the  nation,  if  ever  there  was 
one ;  but  as  to  the  judgment  to  be  awarded,  opin- 
ions were  profoundly  divided.  The  Girondins 
had  from  the  commencement  of  their  political 
career  been  more  decidedly  anti-Royalist  than 
the  Montagnards.  They  were  the  first  to  invoke 
the  magic  name  of  the  Republic.  Penetrated 
with  classic  ideas,  the  death  of  tyrants  was  an 
article  of  their  creed  ;  Aristogiton  and  Brutus 
were  saints  in  their  eyes.  We  have  seen  at  what 
an  early  stage  Madame  Roland  had  cried,  "  Two 
heads  must  fall !"  Perhaps,  had  they  then  fallen, 
it  might  have  saved  incalculable  bloodshed.  But 
the  aspect  of  affairs  had  entirely  changed  since 
then,  and  this  change  was  instinctively  felt  by  the 
Gironde. 

For,  before  all,  the  Girondins  were  humanita- 
rians, and  only  politicians  and  statesmen  after. 
It  may  have  been  the  cause  of  their  failure;  but 
if  so,  it  became  them  better  than  success.  One 
of  Brissot's  first  acts  when  in  power  was  the  aboli- 
tion of  slavery  in  St.  Domingo,  and  if  attended 
with  unfortunate  results,  it  shows  none  the  less, 
among  many  other  things,  his  zeal  for  the  happi- 
ness of  man.  With  such  tendencies,  the  attitude 
of  the  Gironde  towards  a  fallen  monarch  was  not 
what  it  had  been  when  that  monarch  was  sur- 
rounded by  all  the  pomp  of  royalty.  As  king,  was 
he  not  virtually  dead  already  ?     Why  revive  him 


AT  THE  BAR  OF  THE  CONVENTION.      223 

then  ;  why  bring  him  once  more  prominently  be- 
fore the  public,  and  invest  him  with  a  factitious 
pathos  by  death  ?  Unanimous  in  their  conviction 
of  his  guilt  and  of  the  urgency  of  a  trial,  they 
were  divided  in  their  votes  as  to  the  kind  of  trial 
and  punishment  to  be  chosen.  This  lamentable 
schism,  which  split  up  their  ranks,  unfortunately 
broke  the  backbone  of  their  party. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

STRUGGLE   BETWEEN    MOUNTAIN   AND    GIRONDE. 

On  the  nth  of  December,  1792,  the  Prince  whose 
coronation  a  few  years  ago  had  been  hailed  as  the 
advent  of  better  times,  appeared  as  a  prisoner  to 
be  tried  at  the  bar  of  the  Convention.  Was  it 
only  a  few  years  ago,  or  had  centuries  elapsed, 
since  he  who  now  stood  there  attainted,  shorn  of 
crown  and  titles,  wrapped  in  unbecoming  brown 
overcoat,  had  lorded  it  in  the  glittering  halls  of 
Versailles,  and  been  pensively  observed  in  his 
royal  scarlet  and  gold  uniform,  amid  his  fawning 
courtiers,  by  an  obscure  daughter  of  Paris  ?  To 
the  heir  of  the  proudest  race  of  kings  in  Europe, 
the  total  subversion  of  the  old  order  of  things 
must  have  had  something  so  stunning  in  its 
effects  that  he  might  well  have  questioned  his 
own  identity.  There  must  have  crept  over  him  a 
sense  of  phantasmagoric  unreality,  which,  super- 
added to  temperament,  may  have  helped  to  pro- 
duce his  singular  apathy  under  such  astonishing 
circumstances. 

Was  ever  in  history  sterner  illustration  of  the 
inexorable  truth,  "The  sins  of  the  fathers  shall  be 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  PARTIES.       225 

visited  upon  the  children  unto  the  third  and 
fourth  generation  "  ?  For  behind  Louis,  in  Louis 
himself,  more  weak  than  wicked,  the  people  saw 
—  even  as  Macbeth  did  in  the  magic  glass  of 
Hecate  —  a  whole  long  line  of  kings,  who  to  the 
wail  of  hunger  and  agony  around  them  had  been 
deaf  as  the  walls  of  those  palaces  where  in 
shameless  orgies  were  dissipated  the  revenues 
of  the  State  ;  so  that  in  Louis  XVI.  they  beheld, 
not  him  alone,  but  the  scapegoat  of  an  entire 
dynasty. 

On  the  20th  of  January,  1793,  by  a  considerable 
majority  in  the  Convention,  he  was  sentenced  to 
death. 

What  Madame  Roland's  vote  would  have  been 
does  not  appear.  Michelet,  with  his  fondness  for 
diving  into  the  recesses  of  the  human  heart,  would 
like  to  know  who  represented  her  opinion  on  this 
memorable  occasion,  — the  man  she  loved,  he  de- 
clares, though  no  one,  according  to  him,  was  lofty 
enough  to  be  her  ideal.  In  Michelet's  time  the 
secret  of  that  noble  spirit  had  not  been  divulged, 
nor  had  those  heart-moving  letters  been  discov- 
ered which  cast  such  a  new,  pathetic  light  on  her 
life.  But  this  student  of  womanhood  felt  that 
under  the  Amazon's  breast-plate  there  throbbed 
a  passion  as  strong  as  the  nature  which  curbed 
it.  His  conjecture  as  to  Bancal  des  Issarts  was 
wrong  ;  but  passing  in  review  the  men  she  con- 
15 


226  MADAME  ROLAND^ 

fided  in,  he  characterizes  Buzot  as  the  heart  of 
the  Gironde.  A  subtle  touch  this,  the  fire  and 
daring  with  which  this  man  always  took  the  lead 
in  the  struggle  of  parties  springing  not  from  his 
heart  only,  but  from  that  of  the  heroine  of  the 
Gironde.  Buzot  voted  for  the  King  s  death,  with 
the  proviso  of  its  ratification  by  the  people. 

Already,  during  the  King's  trial,  the  position 
of  the  Girondins  in  Paris  had  grown  full  of  peril. 
The  Rolands  had  become  the  target  at  which 
Hcbert  through  his  paper,  the  "  Pere  Duchesne," 
daily  flung  the  dirt  of  his  scurrilous  vituperations. 
Marat,  to  whom  every  person  in  power  straight- 
way became  a  traitor,  held  them  up  as  objects  of 
fear  and  suspicion  to  the  mob.  He  had,  in  fact, 
a  special  subject  of  grievance  against  the  Minister 
who  refused  him  a  grant  of  fifteen  thousand  francs 
for  his  paper  "  L'Ami  du  Peuple."  But  in  spite  of 
the  continuous  attacks  against  him  in  the  Paris 
press  and  by  the  Clubs,  Roland  remained  firm 
to  his  convictions  of  freedom  of  the  press  and  of 
public  meetings,  fearing  nothing  so  much  as  to  act 
despotically  in  the  name  of  liberty. 

How  far  things  had  already  gone  with  them  at 
this  time  is  shown  by  Madame  Roland's  letter x  of 

1  This  letter,  which  is  of  great  interest,  only  recently  came  to 
light  at  a  sale  of  autographs,  and  has  hitherto  only  been  pub- 
lished in  a  French  newspaper.  It  is  addressed  to  the  ex-Minister 
of  War,  then  General  Servan. 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  PARTIES.       22*] 

the  25th  December,  year  first  of  the  Republic. 
She  begins  :  — 

"  The  date  is  not  indifferent,  for  who  knows  what  to- 
morrow may  bring  forth?  It  is  on  the  cards  that  many 
worthy  people  may  not  see  its  end.  There  are  dreadful 
designs  afloat  against  Louis,  so  as  to  give  occasion  to  in- 
clude the  Deputies  and  the  Minister  of  the  Interior  in  the 
massacre.  ...  I  have  sent  my  daughter  to  the  country, 
and  settled  my  little  affairs  as  if  for  the  long  journey,  and 
can  now  calmly  await  whatever  may  happen.  Our  social 
institutions  render  life  so  painful  to  honest  hearts  that  its 
loss  ceases  to  be  a  hardship,  and  I  have  so  thoroughly 
familiarized  myself  with  the  thought  of  death,  that,  should 
the  assassins  come,  I  shall  go  to  meet  them,  persuaded  as 
I  am  that  the  only  thing  in  the  world  likely  to  arrest  their 
blows  is  to  show  an  unmoved  front.  .  .  .  Warnings  of  in- 
tended assassinations  come  pouring  in,  for  they  honor  me 
with  their  hate,  and  I  know  the  reason  why  !  During  the 
first  fortnight  of  Roland's  Ministry  the  scoundrel  Danton 
and  the  hypocritical  Fabre  were  always  about  us,  aping  a 
love  of  what  was  good  and  honest.  They  saw  through  me, 
and,  without  my  ever  saying  anything  to  confirm  their 
opinion,  concluded  that  I   sometimes  wield  the  pen  ;  and 

these  writings  of  M.  R have   produced  some  effect; 

therefore,  etc. 

"  Since  this  Marat  has  been  set  to  bark  at  me,  and  has 
never  left  me  a  minute's  peace  ;  I  have  been  pelted  with 
pamphlets.  .  .  .  My  silence  has  only  increased  their  rage. 
1  am  Galigai,  Brinvilliers,  Vot'sm,  everything  that  is  most 
monstrous  ;  and  the  women  of  the  markets  intend  treating 
me  like  another  Lambaile. 

"  So  I  send  you  my  portrait,  for  I  would  still  wish  to 
leave  something  of  myself  to  my  friends.  It  pleases  me  to 
tell  you  that  with  the  exception  of  my  husband,  my  daughter, 


228  MADAME  ROLAND. 

and  one  other  person,  you  are  the  only  friend  to  whom  I  am 
giving  it.  Nobody  knows  of  its  existence,  not  even  the 
general  run  of  friends. 

"  I  cannot  imagine  what  things  will  come  to  ;  but  if  Paris 
goes  to  ruin,  the  South  must  save  us.  .  .  .  Most  of  our 
Deputies  only  walk  out  now  armed  to  the  teeth.  Numbers 
of  people  implore  us  not  to  stay  at  night  at  the  Ministerial 
residence.  How  charming  is  this  Parisian  liberty!  Well! 
Had  you  stayed  in  office  we  should  not  have  come  to  this. 
Had  the  federate  troops  been  placed  under  your  command, 
you  could  by  discipline  have  turned  them  into  a  respectable 
sort  of  support.  They  might  have  served  instead  of  the 
guard,  which  they  have  not  dared  to  levy.  Pache  has  done 
nothing  but  disgust,  annul,  and  send  them  away  again.  If 
they  save  us  to-morrow,  it  will  be  of  their  own  accord,  and 
in  disregard  of  orders. 

u  In  truth,  I  am  weary  of  this  world  ;  it  is  not  made  for 
honest  folk,  and  there  is  some  reason  for  dislodging  them 
from  it.  Farewell,  brave  citizen  ;  I  esteem  and  love  you 
with  all  my  heart.  I  shall  write  to  you  in  a  few  days  if 
the  storm  has  not  engulfed  us.  In  case  it  has,  remember 
my  daughter  sometimes,  and  the  pleasant  plans  we  had 
formed!  ..." 

Things  had  come  to  such  a  pass,  that  now  the 
only  question  left  was  when  the  threatening  storm 
would  burst.  The  two  parties  —  but  one  in  their 
opposition  to  the  Moderates  of  1791  — were  now 
engaged  in  such  a  deadly  duel  that  the  trial  of 
Louis  (judged  really  on  the  10th  of  August,  and 
an  old  story  by  now)  dwindled  by  comparison 
into  insignificance.  And  this  struggle  is  so  en- 
grossing, because  on  its  issue  really  depended  the 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  PARTIES.       229 

fate  of  the  Republic.  But  had  its  fate  not  been 
decided  already,  from  the  fact  that  such  a  struggle 
existed  ?  Was  there  any  chance  of  success  when 
those  who  united  should  have  faced  their  common 
foes,  hated  each  other  fully  as  bitterly  as  them  ? 
They  should  have  united,  — yet  it  lay  in  the  fatality 
of  circumstances  that  they  could  not  unite  any 
more  than  will  oil  and  vinegar,  however  much  you 
may  shake  them  up  together.  Although  their 
aims  were  practically  the  same,  —  for  there  was 
no  difference  in  kind  between  the  Republic  which 
Danton  wanted  and  that  for  which  Brissot  strove, 
—  yet  were  their  methods  radically  opposed.  The 
Gironde  tried  to  found  the  new  order  on  law  ;  the 
Mountain  on  terror.  The  Gironde  considered 
that  the  Revolution  had  gone  far  enough,  and  that 
the  crying  need  was  to  inspire  the  nation  with  a 
sense  of  security  ;  the  Mountain  held  that  whole 
sections  must  be  exterminated  before  a  reorganiza- 
tion could  take  place.  It  is  the  fashion  now  to 
praise  up  the  last  as  the  strong  party,  who  knew 
what  they  wanted  and  managed  to  get  it ;  but  if 
success  is  the  test  of  capacity,  their  twelve  months 
more  of  rule,  or  so,  does  not  give  them  such  vast 
superiority  over  the  Girondins.  Had  they  really 
managed  to  establish  a  permanent  government 
there  would  be  some  reason  for  extolling  their  su- 
perior sagacity  ;  but  where  was  the  advantage  of 
their  system,  seeing  that  their  wholesale  execu- 


230  MADAME  ROLAND. 

tions —  if    they   intimidated    for    a    time  —  only- 
turned  the  nation's  love  into  loathing  ? 

It  is  said  that  the  strong  coercive  measures  which 
they  adopted  insured  the  splendid  triumphs  of  the 
French  army,  whereas  they  had  chiefly  suffered 
reverses  during  the  Girondin  ascendancy.  But 
one  of  the  most  glorious  battles,  that  of  Jemmapes, 
had  been  won  by  Dumouriez,  —  a  man  appointed 
by  the  Gironde,  but  for  whose  subsequent  treachery 
it  could  in  no  wise  be  blamed.  When  one  remem- 
bers how  largely  the  army  of  France  was  com- 
posed of  raw  volunteers,  inexperienced  if  full  of 
enthusiasm,  their  early  reverses  followed  by  sub- 
sequent victories  may  be  explained  quite  apart 
from  party  policy. 

In  fact,  most  of  the  successful  measures,  such 
as  the  formation  of  some  of  those  powerful  com- 
mittees, —  to  be  turned  into  engines  of  destruc- 
tion against  their  founders,  —  were  originated  by 
the  Girondins  and  appropriated  by  the  Jacobins 
afterwards.  Thus  the  important  measure  of 
sending  republican  commissioners  to  the  camps 
to  control  the  generals  and  keep  the  Convention 
informed  of  their  spirit  had  been  a  proposition  of 
Vergniaud.  No  single  cause  contributed  more, 
perhaps,  than  this  measure  to  the  success  of  the 
Revolutionary  army ;  yet  was  the  Gironde  too 
short-lived  to  reap  the  benefit  of  this,  and  its 
credit  redounded  to  their  political  persecutors. 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  PARTIES.       23 1 

But  the  capital  charge  —  that  which  ruined  the 
Girondins  in  public  opinion  —  was  the  accusation 
of  federalism.  The  one  inexpiable  sin  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Revolutionists  was  the  sin  against 
the  unity  and  indivisibility  of  the  Republic.  But 
had  they  entertained  such  a  design  ?  And  if  so, 
was  it  really  so  culpable  ?  In  Madame  Roland's 
letter  to  Servan  her  expression  "  If  Paris  goes  to 
ruin,  the  South  must  save  us"  sufficed  to  send 
her  to  the  guillotine.  We  see  from  her  Memoirs 
that  when  the  enemy  was  expected  to  march 
upon  Paris,  the  expediency  of  removing  the  seat 
of  Representatives  to  the  southeast  had  been  dis- 
cussed. But  these  changes  were  only  talked  of 
as  expedients  in  critical  moments,  not  as  perma- 
nent modifications  of  the  State.  The  deputies 
from  Bordeaux  and  Marseilles  were  credited  with 
a  dislike  to  Paris,  and  the  wish  of  reducing  its 
influence  to  the  level  of  that  of  the  provinces  ; 
but  how  about  Madame  Roland,  who  laughingly 
called  herself  a  badaud  (cockney),  and  who  from 
dreary  Villefranche  had  turned  longing  eyes 
towards  Paris,  every  association  of  her  childhood 
being  inwoven  with  its  streets  !  Yet  she  repre- 
sented the  spirit  of  the  Gironde  in  its  entirety 
more  completely  than  any  of  its  male  members. 

No  doubt  the  September  massacres  did  for  a 
time  set  Madame  Roland's  heart  against  Paris. 


232  MADAME  ROLAND. 

In  the  heat  of  her  indignation  she  called  it  a  city 
of  cowards.  To  her  belief  the  massacres  had  not 
been  the  spontaneous  act  of  a  population  impelled 
by  panic,  but  the  deliberately-planned  crime  of  a 
band  of  miscreants.  And  so  she  argued  that  the 
National  Convention  should  be  placed  out  of 
reach  of  the  terrorism  of  Paris,  where  an  insur- 
rectionary commune,  with  an  armed  force  at  its 
back,  practically  deprived  it  of  free  agency, — 
and  pointed  to  the  United  States  as  an  example 
to  be  followed  !  And  she  strenuously  advocated 
the  formation  of  a  Departmental  Guard  as  a  bul- 
wark to  the  Representative  Assembly. 

But  these  suggestions  and  provisional  schemes 
have  no  connection  with  any  plan  of  parcelling 
out  France  into  a  number  of  small  federate  com- 
munities. Madame  Roland  herself  owns  that 
whatever  might  be  advanced  in  favor  of  such 
federate  republics  as  Greece,  Switzerland,  and 
the  United  States,  the  actual  situation  of  France 
—  threatened  on  all  sides  by  invasion  —  called 
imperatively  for  unity.  Buzot,  in  a  conversation 
where  this  was  discussed,  she  says,  asserted  for 
argument's  sake  that  that  growing  patriotism 
which  had  inspired  the  whole  body  of  Athenians 
to  take  refuge  on  ships  and  abandon  their  city  to 
the  enemy,  was  possible  in  a  small  State  only 
whose  inhabitants  all  knew  and  loved  each  other 


STRUGGLE  BETWEEN  PARTIES.       233 

like  the  members  of  a  common  family.  These 
remarks,  reported  and  denounced  by  Anacharsis 
Clootz,  became  one  of  the  chief  instruments  by 
which  the  destruction  of  the  Gironde  was  eventu- 
ally brought  about. 

In  fact,  there  exists  no  evidence  whatever  of 
the  Girondins  having  contemplated  the  founda- 
tion of  a  federate  Republic;  on  the  contrary, 
they  were  as  deeply  convinced  of  the  necessity  of 
its  unity  as  the  Jacobins.  But  supposing  that 
they  had  contemplated  the  future  possibility  of 
such  a  form  of  government,  was  it  for  Robes- 
pierre to  stigmatize  such  a  conception  as  a  crime  ? 
—  Robespierre,  according  to  Louis  Blanc,  the 
most  thorough-going  disciple  of  Rousseau.  Had 
he  then  forgotten  these  sentences  in  the  "Con- 
trat  Social,"  which  he  who  runs  may  read  ? 

"Moreover,  if  a  State  cannot  be  restrained  within  moder- 
ate limits,  there  still  remains  an  expedient ;  that,  namely, 
of  not  having  a  permanent  capital,  but  of  shifting  the  seat 
of  the  government  from  town  to  town,  where  the  represen- 
tatives of  the  nation  shall  meet  in  turn. 

"  Let  the  land  be  peopled  in  equal  proportions,  let  the 
same  rights  obtain  everywhere,  and  life  and  plenty  be 
everywhere  diffused.  By  this  means  your  State  will  be- 
come the  strongest  and  most  wisely-governed  in  existence. 
Remember  that  the  walls  of  towns  are  only  raised  on  the 
dilapidation  of  villages.  For  every  palace  that  is  building 
in  the  capital  I  seem  to  see  a  whole  country-side  falling 
into  decay." 


234  MADAME  ROLAND. 

If  ever  there  were  a  strong  protest  against 
centralization  of  government  Rousseau  made  it ; 
yet  Robespierre  shrank  not  on  mere  suspicion 
and  loose  reports  of  such  doctrine  from  sending 
the  Gironde  to  the  guillotine. 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FLING   US    INTO   THE    ABYSS. 

On  a  freezing  day  of  January  took  place  the  exe- 
cution of  Louis  XVI.  His  death,  as  subsequent 
events  amply  proved,  did  not  help  to  cement  the 
future  stability  of  the  Republic.  Better  to  have 
followed  the  opinion  of  Condorcet  and  many  of 
the  Girondins,  and  have  sent  him  into  banish- 
ment. You  can  decapitate  a  man,  but  not  a 
principle  ;  and  the  King  dead,  there  will  still  be 
the  cry  of  "  Long  live  the  King  !  "  The  founders 
of  liberty,  instead  of  imitating  the  methods  of  des- 
potism, should  have  left  something,  as  Danton 
said  at  a  later  stage,  to  the  guillotine  of  opinion. 
Force  begets  force,  and  violence  violence:  here 
lies  the  justification  of  Marat,  Robespierre,  Saint 
Just,  Tallien,  and  the  most  furious  of  the  Corde- 
liers. But  were  this  the  only  law,  mankind 
would  be  revolving  in  a  vicious  circle  of  retribu- 
tion. The  apostles  of  humanitarian  principles 
should  have  taken  their  stand  on  a  higher  plat- 
form, and  have  cast  a  veil  over  wrongs  never  to 
be  righted  by  fresh  wrongs  in  a  new  direction. 


236  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Vergniaud,  in  replying  to  Robespierre's  denun- 
ciation of  the  Girondins,  gave  the  loftiest  inter- 
pretation to  the  principles  which  his  party 
represented.     Said  he  :  — 

"  We  are  called  Moderates  ;  and  for  whose  benefit  ?  If 
for  that  of  the  emigrants,  was  it  not  we  who  voted  the 
enactment  of  those  rigorous  measures  which  justice  de- 
manded? .  .  .  Some  men  make  patriotism  consist  in 
tormenting  others,  in  causing  the  shedding  of  tears.  I  de- 
sired that  men  should  be  rendered  happy  by  it.  I  did  not 
think  that,  like  those  priests  and  inquisitors  who  only 
speak  of  their  God  of  mercy  at  the  stake,  we  should  speak 
of  liberty  in  the  midst  of  dangers  and  executioners.  .  .  . 
They  believe  in  consolidating  the  Revolution  by  terror ;  I 
was  fain  to  see  her  consolidated  by  love." 

Madame  Roland's  letter  to  Servan  shows  how 
perilous  their  position  was  already  by  the  end  of 
1792,  the  first  year  of  the  Republic.  Champag- 
neux  describes  the  continual  harassing  anxieties 
of  his  friend  during  these  last  months  of  her 
husband's  ministry.  Every  day  brought  fresh 
attacks,  and  every  night  warnings  of  intended 
assassinations.  The  leading  Girondins  constantly 
sought  refuge  in  the  house  of  friends;  Madame 
Roland  alone  scorned  all  precautions.  Braver 
than  the  bravest,  if  die  she  must  she  would  die 
at  her  post.  Once,  at  her  friends'  entreaties, 
she  had  almost  consented  to  leave  the  exposed 
situation  at  her  official  dwelling  ;  and  some  dis- 
guise being  required,  she  assumed  the  dress  of  a 


FLING   US  INTO   THE  ABYSS.  237 

peasant  woman  ;  but  the  bystanders  objecting  to 
her  head-gear  as  not  clumsy  enough,  she  snatched 
it  from  her  head,  flung  it  away,  and  declared  she 
would  not  proceed  with  this  unworthy  masquerade. 
"  I  am  ashamed,"  cried  she,  "at  the  part  you  wish 
me  to  play  ;  I  will  neither  disguise  myself  nor  go 
hence.  If  they  wish  to  assassinate  me,  let  it  be 
at  my  own  home.  I  ought  to  set  this  example  of 
firmness,  and  I  will." 

From  this  day  till  Roland  tendered  his  resigna- 
tion his  wife  never  left  the  house.  Prepared  for 
the  worst,  she  always  slept  with  a  loaded  pistol 
within  reach,  —  not  for  purposes  of  attack  or  de- 
fence, but  to  guard  herself  from  outrages  worse 
than  death. 

Careless  for  herself,  or,  more  properly  speaking, 
feeling  it  her  duty  to  remain,  Madame  Roland 
was  very  anxious  to  know  her  daughter  in  safety. 
Eudora,  now  between  twelve  and  thirteen,  was  a 
gentle,  blue-eyed  girl,  whose  abundant  hair  fell 
in  fair  clusters  about  her  shoulders.  She  lacked 
her  mother's  passionate  mental  energy,  and' ap- 
peared by  contrast  of  a  cold,  unimpressionable 
temperament,  which  made  the  idea  of  having  to 
intrust  her  to  others  less  bitter  than  it  would 
otherwise  have  been.  The  parents  decided  to 
send  her  to  Roland's  elder  brother  under  the 
charge  of  a  Mademoiselle  Mignot,  her  instructress. 
But  when  it  came  to  the  point  other  counsels 


238  MADAME  ROLAND. 

prevailed ;  it  was  judged  even  more  hazardous  to 
send  Eudora  to  the  country  than  to  know  her 
under  her  mother's  protection.  The  time-serving 
woman  in  whom  Madame  Roland  would  have  re- 
posed so  great  a  trust,  and  for  whose  old  age  she 
had  tried  to  provide,  left  as  soon  as  Roland  retired 
from  office,  to  reappear  on  the  trial  of  his  wife, 
when  her  deposition  against  her  former  mistress 
served  to  give  a  shadow  of  plausibility  to  some  of 
the  charges  in  the  indictment.  Roland  resigned 
his  post  of  Minister  of  the  Interior  on  the  22d 
of  January,  the  day  following  that  of  the  execu- 
tion of  Louis  XVI.  No  invitations  poured  in 
now  pressing  him  to  remain  in  office.  Highly 
as  the  Gironde  valued  "his  services  and  integrity, 
its  own  grim  struggle  for  existence  engrossed  it 
completely. 

Roland,  in  fact,  had  become  a  source  of  weak- 
ness instead  of  strength  to  it.  The  partisans  of 
the  Commune  had  made  him  the  special  mark 
of  their  malignity.  His  persistency  in  exhorting 
the  municipal  officers  to  render  their  accounts; 
in  charging  them  and  Danton  with  peculations  ; 
in  informing  the  Convention  of  the  crimes  and  ex- 
cesses daily  committed  by  the  pilfering  of  shops, 
the  street-robberies,  the  expulsion  of  public  func- 
tionaries, and  the  decrees  of  the  Assembly  set 
at  naught  by  the  Municipality, —  had  made  him 
at  that  time  the  most  unpopular  man  in  Paris. 


FLING   US  INTO   THE  ABYSS.  239 

His  urgent  entreaties  that  his  own  accounts 
should  be  passed  remained  unheeded.  He  him- 
self was  taxed  with  dishonesty  in  his  administra- 
tion. The  most  absurd  rumors  were  greedily 
swallowed,  —  as  of  his  having  deposited  a  large 
sum  of  money  in  a  London  bank.  Much  as  he 
wished  it,  he  could  not  retire  to  his  vineyards, 
for  that  would  have  been  regarded  as  tantamount 
to  a  confession  of  guilt  on  his  part ;  and  yet  the 
examination  of  the  Compte- Rendu  GMral,  or  gen- 
eral exposition  of  his  administration,  was  purposely 
delayed  to  keep  him  a  fixture  in  Paris  with  a 
Damocles  sword  suspended  above  his  head.  It 
was  a  heart-breaking  situation. 

The  ex-Minister's  health,  never  good,  was  giv- 
ing way  under  these  trials.  The  misdeeds  he 
could  not  prevent,  and  seemed  to  sanction  as 
being  Minister,  had  given  him  a  kind  of  jaundice  ; 
he  could  retain  nothing  on  his  stomach,  —  so  that 
to  all  Madame  Roland's  other  cares,  anxiety  about 
him  was  added.  Matters  were  not  mended  by 
their  retirement  into  privacy.  The  modest  re- 
tirement of  the  Rue  de  la  Harpe  was  stigmatized 
by  Marat  as  the  boudoir  of  la  Femme  Roland, 
where,  under  the  spells  of  its  Circe,  the  Gironde 
was  forging  the  plots  that  were  to  destroy  the 
Republic.  The  Clubs,  more  tumultuous  than 
ever,  rang  again  with  invectives  against  the  Bris- 
sotins,  those  traitors  who  had  voted  for  ratification 


240  MADAME  ROLAND. 

by  the  nation  of  the  sentence  on  the  King.  Ro- 
land was  only  spoken  of  as  King  Roland.  Camille, 
the  too  brilliant  Camille,  pierced  them  to  the 
quick  in  his  "  Histoire  des  Brissotins  ; "  but  the 
barbed  arrow  of  his  wit  rebounded,  alas!  to  cleave 
his  own  heart  when  repentance  came  too  late. 

Meanwhile  the  sittings  in  the  Convention  grew 
daily  more  riotous.  Delegates  of  the  nation  were 
seen  rushing  madly  to  the  tribune,  shaking  fists 
in  each  other's  faces,  and  even  drawing  their 
swords !  The  two  chief  revolutionary  parties 
hated  each  other  more  fiercely  even  than  Court, 
Nobles,  Priests,  Royalists,  Moderates !  But  it  is 
always  thus  in  the  history  of  ideas.  The  more 
men's  ideas  approximate,  the  more  galling  their 
divergencies.  Yet  these  struggles  of  Jacobin  and 
Girondin  were  mild  compared  with  the  war  of 
extermination  which  many  of  the  conflicting  sects 
waged  with  each  other  some  centuries  after  the 
Christian  era. 

While  this  unhappy  conflict  raged  in  the  Con- 
vention, the  fortunes  of  France  were  reaching 
their  lowest  ebb.  The  news  of  the  reverses  of 
Dumouriez,  of  the  insurrection  of  La  Vendee,  of 
the  disturbances  in  Calvados,  broke  like  so  many 
heavy  seas  over  the  decks  of  the  Republic.  The 
Girondins,  who  still  manned  all  the  chief  posts, 
were  held  responsible  for  every  disaster.  Yet 
they  did   not  admit  the  greatness  of  the  peril, 


FLING   US  INTO   THE  ABYSS.  241 

being  either  too  culpably  engrossed  by  the  strife 
of  factions  at  Paris,  or  fearful  of  another  panic, 
or,  what  seems  likeliest,  too  convinced  of  the 
popularity  of  the  Revolution  to  make  them  doubt 
its  stability.  From  the  first,  Brissot  had  relied 
for  success  on  the  sympathy  of  neighboring  popu- 
lations ;  and  he  must  also  have  been  aware,  that, 
as  a  large  portion  of  the  lands  of  the  Church  and 
of  the  emigrant  nobles  had  passed  into  the  hands 
of  small  peasant-proprietors,  their  interests  were 
enlisted  in  the  cause  of  the  Revolution. 

Be  this  as  it  may,  the  ferment  in  the  Clubs  and 
sections  of  Paris  exploded  on  the  10th  of  March 
in  the  abortive  insurrection  aimed  at  the  Gironde. 
But  it  would  appear  that  neither  Robespierre, 
Danton,  nor  Marat  himself  had  had  any  share  in 
this  anarchical  attempt  to  coerce  the  national 
representation.  Danton,  on  the  contrary,  had 
sent  warnings  time  after  time  to  the  unpopular 
deputies,  although  after  a  last  fruitless  effort  at 
conciliation  he  had  definitely  thrown  in  his  lot 
with  the  Jacobins.  On  the  day  of  this  insurrec- 
tion he  had  made  one  of  his  grand  speeches, 
exhorting  the  parties  to  union  in  face  of  their 
common  danger.  Under  the  spell  of  his  appeal 
the  shrieking  discords  resolved  themselves  for  a 
moment  into  harmony. 

Alas  !  this  harmony,  which  would  have  saved 
the  Republic,  was  of  brief  duration.     The  forma- 

16 


242  MADAME  ROLAND. 

tion  of  the  Revolutionary  Tribunal  became  the 
subject  of  fresh  controversies.  From  the  vision 
of  this  terrible  instrument,  to  be  intrusted  with 
unlimited  powers,  to  judge  and  slay,  Buzot  drew 
back  with  a  shudder.  "  They  were  going  to  insti- 
tute a  despotism  more  frightful  than  anarchy 
itself,"  he  said ;  and  although  interrupted  by  vio- 
lent uproar,  he  nevertheless  continued  to  render 
thanks  to  those  who  had  hitherto  deigned  to  spare 
his  life.  "  Let  them  only  leave  me  time  enough 
to  clear  my  memory  from  dishonor  by  voting 
against  this  tyranny  of  the  Convention  !  .  .  . 
What  does  it  signify  whether  the  tyrant  be  single 
or  plural  ?  When  the  public  intrusted  you  with 
unrestricted  powers,  it  was  not  that  you  might 
usurp  its  liberty."  Vergniaud  branded  this  pros- 
pective of  trial  without  jury  with  the  exclamation : 
"The  Inquisition  of  State  come  again,  and  worse 
than  at  Venice  !  "  Their  remonstrances  produced 
some  effect.  The  tribunal,  which  was  elected  by 
the  Convention,  came  ultimately  to  consist  of  a 
jury,  as  well  as  judges  and  a  public  accuser.  But 
as  the  jury  had  to  proclaim  their  vote  openly, 
exposed  to  the  threats  of  the  galleries  and  the 
anger  of  the  mob,  they  were  practically  acting 
under  coercion. 

WTith  the  institution  of  this  tribunal  the  Revo- 
lution enters  upon  a  further  stage.  Auspicious 
and  beneficent  was  the  beginning  of  its  career ; 


FLING   US  INTO   THE  ABYSS.  243 

great  the  blessing  it  had  already  bestowed  on  the 
nation  ;  but  distracted  by  treachery,  driven  wild 
by  defeat,  its  promise  turned  to  a  menace,  the 
hope  which  it  had  brought  the  world  was  veiled 
in  terror.  Yes,  the  Terror  came  in  with  the  Revo- 
lutionary Tribunal,  planting  the  guillotine  en  per- 
manence  on  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  stalking 
spectre-like  through  the  realm  where  it  made 
converts  by  fear  instead  of  argument ;  cramming 
the  prisons  with  promiscuous  crowds  consisting 
of  persons  of  every  shade  of  opinion ;  setting 
aside  individual  liberty  by  breaking  into  houses 
at  all  hours  of  the  night,  and  bringing  death  to 
the  Suspects,  —  but  likewise  filling  the  foreign 
invader  with  dread  ;  concentrating  and  intensify- 
ing the  action  of  the  people ;  giving  a  new  im- 
pulse to  the  energies  of  France,  organizing  armies, 
and  stimulating  the  people  to  melt  down  the  bells 
and  the  bronze  saints  of  their  churches  to  forge 
arms  for  the  volunteers. 

The  treason  of  Dumouriez,  who  went  over  to 
the  enemy,  after  an  unsuccessful  attempt  to  march 
upon  Paris,  inflicted  a  dreadful  blow  on  the  Giron- 
dins.  Nothing  better  occurred  to  the  Montagnards 
than  to  make  the  former  responsible  for  the  de- 
fection of  this  general  and  to  accuse  Brissot  of 
complicity,  although  they  themselves,  with  the  ex- 
ception of  Marat,  had  been  loud  in  their  praises 
of  the  hero  of  Jemmapes.    The  Gironde  retaliated 


244  MADAME  ROLAND. 

furiously  by  incriminating  Danton,  —  a  foolhardy 
proceeding  on  their  part ;  for  the  Hercules  of 
the  Tribune,  putting  aside  all  further  thoughts  of 
union  and  pacification,  made  a  speech  of  two 
hours'  duration,  in  which  he  came  down  upon 
them  with  his  sledge-hammer  eloquence.  The 
irreparable  breach  was  now  made,  and  animosities 
had  reached  such  a  pitch  that  the  members  of 
the  Convention,  with  the  shortsightedness  of  fury, 
annulled  their  own  inviolability.  Marat  had  given 
the  signal  by  his  cry :  "  Let  us  strike  traitors 
wherever  we  may  find  them." 

For  the  moment  the  Girondins  achieved  a  rui- 
nous triumph  by  the  impeachment  of  Marat,  who 
had  issued  a  proclamation  to  the  Departments 
declaring  the  Convention  to  be  the  seat  of  a 
"  Cabal  sold  to  the  English  Court ; "  whereupon 
the  Right  and  Centre,  unanimous  in  their  indig- 
nation, voted  that  he  should  be  brought  to  trial. 
But  while  "  the  Friend  of  the  People  "  was  placed 
under  merely  nominal  arrest,  having  every  atten- 
tion lavished  upon  him  by  the  municipal  officers, 
twenty-five  out  of  the  forty-eight  sections  of  Paris 
had  given  in  their  adhesion  to  a  petition  demand- 
ing the  expulsion  from  the  Chamber  of  the 
twenty-two  chief  Girondins.  On  the  14th  of 
April  a  deputation  from  the  Commune,  headed  by 
Mayor  Pache,  came  to  have  the  petition  read  at 
the  Convention.     Great  care  had  been  taken  that, 


FLING   US  INTO   THE  ABYSS.  245 

with  the  exception  of  the  offending  members, 
the  purity  of  the  majority  should  be  proclaimed. 
This  was  but  a  sinister  mask  of  moderation  fain 
to  hide  the  imminent  peril  of  such  a  measure. 
The  generous-hearted  Fonfrede,  the  youngest  of 
the  Girondins,  broke  the  spell  of  helpless  bewil- 
derment that  seemed  to  have  fallen  on  the  As- 
sembly. "  If  modesty  were  not  a  duty,"  he  cried, 
"I  should  feel  hurt  at  the  omission  of  my  name 
from  this  list !  " 

Three-fourths  of  the  Assembly,  echoing  Fon- 
frede's  sentiment,  claimed  to  be  included  too. 
The  majesty  of  the  common  will,  as  expressed 
in  the  representation  of  the  nation,  asserted 
itself  on  that  day  for  the  last  time  in  the  Con- 
vention. 

The  petitioners  had  notified  that  their  demand 
of  proscription  of  the  twenty-two  should  be  sent 
for  ratification  to  the  Departments.  Whereupon 
Fonfrede  pointed  out  that  the  sovereignty  of  the 
people  only  made  itself  manifest  through  the  pri- 
mary Assemblies.  This  would  have  been  a  sig- 
nal for  a  dissolution  of  the  Assembly  and  the 
plunging  the  country  into  the  turmoil  of  elections 
at  a  moment  when  its  very  existence,  and  that  of 
the  Republic,  depended  upon  the  most  absolute 
concentration  of  all  its  forces. 

The  moment  was  one  of  infinite  risk.  The  Gi- 
rondins, hated  by  Paris,  which  they  had  attacked 


246  MADAME  ROLAND. 

with  inconsiderate  violence,  still  possessed  the 
majority  in  the  provinces.  Their  influence,  their 
safety,  nay  their  very  existence,  lay  in  having  re- 
course once  more  to  a  General  Election.  But 
Marseilles  and  Lyons  had  become  centres  of  re- 
action in  the  southeast,  La  Vendee  had  burst 
into  fierce  rebellion  for  Church  and  King,  and 
in  the  north  and  east  foreign  armies  held  the 
fortresses  on  the  frontiers. 

The  great  soul  of  Vergniaud  grasped  the  situa- 
tion ;  saw  the  strife  of  parties  hurrying  France 
to  its  ruin  ;  felt  that,  as  they  never  could  unite 
again,  one  of  them  must  perish.  On  this  20th  of 
April  the  Girondins  were  still  free  to  choose. 
Vergniaud  chose  for  them.  "Citizens,"  he  said, 
"  a  conflagration  will  be  kindled  ...  to  burst 
forth  on  the  convocation  of  the  primary  Assem- 
blies. ...  It  is  a  disastrous  measure,  and  may 
end  the  Convention,  the  Republic,  and  liberty. 
If  you  have  no  choice  between  voting  this  con- 
vocation and  yielding  us  up  to  our  enemies  .  .  . 
citizens,  do  not  hesitate  between  a  few  men  and 
the  commonwealth.  .  .  .  Fling  us  into  the  abyss, 
and  let  the  country  be  saved  !  " 

"  This  was  more  than  a  noble  impulse  ;  it  was 
a  great  action,"  says  Louis  Blanc.  The  Giron- 
dins remained  silent.  Not  one  of  them  protested 
against  the  stern  verdict  of  their  orator,  but  ac- 
cepted their  doom  at  his  hands.     These  were  the 


FLING   US  INTO   THE  ABYSS.  2tf 

men  accused  of  conspiring  with  the  enemy,  of 
sowing  sedition,  of  federalist  proclivities  tending 
to  destroy  the  unity  of  the  Republic :  these  men 
who  subscribed  as  one  man  to  Vergniaud's  patri- 
otic cry,  "  Fling  us  into  the  abyss,  and  let  the 
country  be  saved  !  " 

The  Convention,  stirred  to  its  depths,  con- 
demned the  petition  against  the  Gironde.  But 
it  had  practically  lost  its  authority.  The  Com- 
mune acted  as  a  rival  power  which  often  set  its 
decrees  at  defiance,  and  the  government  practi- 
cally passed  into  the  hands  of  the  members  of 
Public  Safety,  —  that  famous  Committee  of  Nine, 
established  on  the  6th  of  April,  1793,  whose  sit- 
tings were  held  in  secret,  and  who  for  a  time  be- 
came the  ruling  power  in  France. 

Marat,  brought  to  trial,  had  been  absolved  by 
the  Revolutionary  Tribunal.  Smothered  in  gar- 
lands of  fresh  flowers,  crowned  with  laurel,  he 
was  carried  in  triumph  through  the  streets,  fol- 
lowed by  a  sans-culotte  multitude.  Loud-re- 
sounding shouts  and  vivas  warned  the  Assembly 
of  his  approach.  "The  Friend  of  the  People," 
attended  by  his  formidable  escort,  once  more 
took  his  seat  at  the  summit  of  the  Mountain. 
When  he  appeared  on  the  tribune  his  voice  was 
drowned  by  the  plaudits  of  the  galleries.  He  ut- 
tered a  few  words  of  thanks  ;  but  what  endeared 
his  success  to  him  was  the  prospect  of  crushing 


248  MADAME  ROLAND. 

his  enemies  as  he  was  then  crushing  a  wreath 
in  his  hand.  Looking  towards  the  Right,  he 
muttered  :  "  I  have  them  now !  They  too  shall 
have  a  triumphant  progress,  but  it  shall  be  to  the 
guillotine." 


CHAPTER    XVIL 


LOVE    IN   A   PRISON. 


On  the  31st  of  May,  Madame  Roland  had  sat 
at  home  listening  with  a  thrill  of  excitement  to 
the  now  familiar  sounds  of  insurrection.  She 
heard  the  beating  of  the  rappel  and  the  ge'ne'rale 
in  the  faubourgs ;  she  saw  armed  men  quickly 
tramping  through  the  streets ;  the  ill-omened 
tocsin  sounded  lugubriously.  She  was  still  in 
Paris,  although  long  prepared  to  leave  it.  Hav- 
ing returned  to  private  life,  she  considered  herself 
free  to  go,  and  judged  that  in  case  of  danger 
Roland  would  be  more  unencumbered  if  she  and 
Eudora  were  out  of  the  way.  But  although  she 
had  come  to  this  decision  for  the  sake  of  Roland, 
of  her  own  health,  and  "  many  other  good  reasons," 
she  did  not  carry  it  out  with  her  usual  prompti- 
tude. Was  she  quite  serious  in  her  wish  to  go,  or 
were  there  not  still  stronger  reasons  which  kept 
her  lingering  in  Paris  ?  Her  passports  had  also 
been  purposely  delayed,  for  had  not  she  too  be- 
come suspect?  During  this  state  of  suspense  she 
was  prostrated   by  violent  spasmodic  colic  (the 


250  MADAME  ROLAND. 

only  ailment  she  suffered  from),  usually  brought 
on  by  over-excitement. 

Able  to  sit  up  after  a  week's  illness,  she  was 
disturbed  at  half-past  five  by  a  loud  knocking  and 
the  entrance  of  armed  men,  sent  by  the  Revo- 
lutionary Committee  to  arrest  Roland.  On  his 
declaration  that  only  violence  should  force  him 
thence,  seeing  he  did  not  recognize  the  legality  of 
their  orders,  the  spokesman  went  back  to  the 
Council-General  of  the  Commune. 

No  sooner  had  the  men  gone  than  Madame 
Roland  formed  a  daring  plan.  She  would  go  her- 
self, expose  the  iniquity  of  this  proceeding,  and 
rouse  the  Convention  to  a  sense  of  its  duty.  So 
she  left  her  husband  in  the  society  of  a  friend, 
and  closely  veiled,  with  a  black  shawl  thrown  over 
her  morning  gown,  she  hurriedly  stepped  into  a 
hackney-coach  and  drove  full  speed  to  the  Place 
du  Carousel.  The  courtyard  of  the  Tuileries  was 
filled  with  National  Guards  ;  the  doors  were  closed 
and  guarded  by  sentinels.  With  the  greatest 
difficulty  she  obtained  entrance  to  the  petitioners' 
hall,  and  there  paced  up  and  down  for  over  an 
hour,  listening  with  a  beating  heart  to  the  dread- 
ful sounds  of  tumult  which  from  time  to  time 
reached  her  from  the  Assembly.  The  final  strug- 
gle was  raging  there.  All  day  long  deputations 
had  been  pouring  in,  demanding  —  nay,  command- 
ing —  the  arrest  of  the  Girondin  chiefs.     Robes- 


LO  VEIN  A   PRISON.  2$  I 

pierre,  denouncing  them  for  the  thousandth  time, 
urged  on  their  destruction  ;  Chabot  could  exult  at 
having  "  put  the  rope  round  their  neck." 

Whenever  the  door  opened,  the  heroine  of  the 
Gironde,  while  impatiently  awaiting  Vergniaud, 
caught  a  confused  vision  of  the  wild  scene  within. 
She  burned  to  be  admitted  to  the  bar  of  the  Con- 
vention. Strung  to  the  highest  pitch  of  exaltation, 
she  felt  a  force  within  herself  to  sway  this  turbu- 
lent Assembly,  to  move  their  hearts,  to  save  at 
this,  the  eleventh  hour,  those  most  dear  to  her. 

Vergniaud  hurried  out  at  last,  but  gave  her 
little  hope  of  admittance  ;  even  should  she  obtain 
a  hearing,  he  told  her,  no  hope  was  to  be  placed  in 
the  Convention.  "  Ah  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "  it  could 
do  what  it  pleased,  for  the  majority  of  Paris  only 
aspire  to  know  how  to  act !  "  Warned  of  the  peril 
she  herself  was  running,  she  scouted  danger,  say- 
ing that  even  if  powerless  to  save  Roland,  she 
might  at  least  tell  those  within  some  home  truths 
not  useless  to  the  Republic,  and  by  her  courage 
set  others  an  example.  Vergniaud  assured  her 
that  a  motion  of  six  articles  was  going  to  be  dis- 
cussed ;  that  petitioners,  deputed  by  the  sections, 
were  waiting  at  the  bar,  —  an  age  for  her  to  wait ! 
Well,  she  would  go  home,  see  what  was  happening 
there,  and  return  immediately,  if  he  would  inform 
their  friends  of  it.  Most  of  them  were  absent, 
Vergniaud  informed  her,  for  though  brave  enough, 


252  MADAME  ROLAND, 

they  were  wanting  in  assiduity.  "  Too  true,  un- 
fortunately," she  admitted,  and  left  him  to  fly  to 
Louvet's  house,  leave  a  note  for  him,  and  then 
take  a  hackney-coach  home.  In  her  fevered  im- 
patience the  horses  seemed  to  crawl,  impeded  as 
they  were  by  detachments  of  National  Guards  ; 
so  she  jumped  out  again  to  make  her  way  home 
on  foot. 

Roland  had  already  left  his  house  when  she 
reached  it.  The  bearers  of  the  warrant,  unable 
to  obtain  a  hearing  at  the  Council,  had  left  him 
in  peace  for  that  night.  His  wife  seeing  him 
safely  hidden  at  a  friend's  house,  after  informing 
him  of  her  plans,  proceeded  once  more  to  the  Con- 
vention. She  found  it  silent  and  deserted  ;  the 
armed  force  had  disappeared,  two  cannon  and  a  few 
men  being  all  that  remained  of  it.  "  What !  "  she 
exclaimed,  "on  the  day  of  an  insurrection,  when 
only  two  hours  before  forty  thousand  men  in 
arms  surrounded  the  Convention,  while  petition- 
ers threatened  its  members  from  the  bar,  the 
Assembly  is  not  permanent  ?  Then  assuredly  it 
must  be  subjugated  !  " 

She  had  no  option  but  to  return  home  again. 
By  this  time  the  streets,  though  illuminated,  were 
almost  deserted.  At  the  Pont  Neuf  the  coach 
was  stopped  by  the  sentry  asking  "  Who  goes 
there  ? "  Some  parley  there  was  with  him  ;  but 
she  got  off  at  last,  and  was  glad  indeed  to  reach 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  253 

home  in  safety.  As  she  was  ascending  the  stairs, 
a  man  who  had  slipped  through  the  gate  unper- 
ceived  by  the  porter  accosted  her  with  an  inquiry 
about  Citizen  Roland.  Madame  Roland,  arrived 
at  last  in  her  room,  bathed  in  perspiration  and 
worn  out  with  fatigue,  kissed  her  sleeping  daugh- 
ter, and  was  just  dashing  off  a  note  to  her  husband 
when  again  startled  by  a  loud  knocking. 

It  was  near  midnight.  The  tramp  of  heavy  feet 
resounded  on  the  stairs.  The  pen  remained  sus- 
pended in  her  hand  as  a  numerous  deputation  of 
the  Commune  entered  her  room.  They  asked  for 
Roland,  and  on  her  replying  that  he  was  not  in, 
exclaimed  roughly  that  she  must  be  perfectly 
aware  of  his  whereabouts.  "  I  know  not,"  she 
said,  "  whether  your  orders  authorize  you  to  ask 
such  questions,  but  I  know  that  nothing  can 
oblige  me  to  answer  them." 

After  a  whispered  consultation  the  men  with- 
drew, but  the  sentinel  left  at  her  door  and  the 
guard  before  the  house  apprised  Roland's  wife 
what  to  expect.  She  ordered  some  supper,  fin- 
ished her  note,  and  then,  thoroughly  exhausted 
after  a  day  of  unprecedented  excitement,  went  to 
bed,  and  slept  as  soundly  as  if  no  dangers  encom- 
passed her.  She  had  not  been  asleep  above  an 
hour,  when  a  servant  roused  her  to  say  that  gen- 
tlemen from  the  Section  wished  to  speak  with  her. 
While  she  was  carefully  dressing  herself,  the  maid 


254  MADAME  ROLAND. 

seemed  astonished  at  her  mistress  putting  on 
more  than  a  dressing-gown.  "  It  is  well  to  be 
decent  when  one  is  going  out,  my  child,"  said 
Madame  Roland,  calmly.  The  poor  woman  looked 
at  her  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  We  have  come  to  arrest  you,"  said  one  of  the 
men  on  her  appearance.  After  protesting  against 
the  illegality  of  the  order,  she  judged  it  more  pru- 
dent to  acquiesce  than  to  expose  herself  to  any 
violent  proceedings  by  a  refusal.  A  Justice  of 
the  Peace  had  arrived,  and  now  affixed  seals  to 
every  article  of  furniture,  even  to  the  chest  of 
drawers.  She  begged  to  be  allowed  to  take  out 
her  daughter's  clothes,  made  up  a  small  bundle 
for  herself,  and  wrote  to  commend  Eudora  to 
the  care  of  a  friend  ;  but  when  the  bearer  of  the 
warrant  asked  to  see  the  address,  she  tore  the 
epistle  into  shreds  for  fear  of  compromising  her 
friend. 

In  the  mean  while  a  promiscuous  crowd  had 
invaded  the  premises.  The  pale  reflection  of 
dawn  mixing  with  the  candle-light  showed  sinis- 
ter faces  peering  about.  The  fetid  atmosphere, 
caused  by  the  press  of  unwashed  intruders,  forced 
Madame  Roland  to  throw  open  a  window  and 
inhale  the  morning  air.  Her  daughter  clung 
sobbing  about  her.  The  servants  stood  round 
scared  and  helpless.  The  loving  mother,  the 
kindly  mistress,  was  to  be  torn  from  them,  dragged 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  255 

to  prison  ;  and  as  she  bade  them  farewell,  entreat- 
ing them  to  be  calm,  the  tears  and  lamentations 
of  her  household  impressed  even  these  officers  of 
the  Commune,  inured  as  they  were  to  the  most 
tragic  scenes. 

"  You  have  people  there  who  love  you,"  said 
one  of  the  Commissioners. 

"  I  never  had  any  about  me  who  did  not," 
replied  Madame  Roland,  and  she  followed  them 
downstairs. 

The  street  was  full  of  people  and  guarded  by 
armed  men.  Erect  and  fearless,  the  great  Cito- 
yenne  stepped  through  the  crowd  towards  the  car- 
riage that  was  to  bear  her  to  prison  as  proudly 
as,  three  short  summers  ago,  she  had  walked 
towards  the  Altar  of  the  Federation.  It  was 
seven  in  the  morning  of  the  1st  of  June.  Women 
of  the  markets,  glaring  and  shaking  their  fists  at 
her,  shouted,  "  To  the  guillotine  !  "  Some  of  the 
Commissioners  obligingly  offered  to  pull  down 
the  blinds. 

"  No,  gentlemen,"  she  replied  ;  "  innocence,  how- 
ever oppressed,  should  not  assume  the  attitude 
of  guilt.  I  fear  the  eyes  of  no  one,  and  do  not 
even  wish  to  escape  from  those  of  my  enemies." 

"  You  have  much  more  character  than  many 
men,"  they  said.    "  You  can  calmly  await  justice." 

"Justice!"  cried  she.  "If  it  existed,  I  should 
not  now  be  in  your  power.     I  would  go  to  the 


256  MADAME  ROLAND. 

scaffold  as  calmly,  if  sent  there  by  iniquitous 
men.  I  only  fear  guilt,  and  despise  injustice  and 
death." 

They  reached  the  prison.  The  heavy  gates  of 
the  Abbaye  closed  on  her.  She  crossed  that 
courtyard,  those  corridors  still  reeking  with  blood- 
shed and  haunted  by  the  spectres  of  September. 
Over  that  door  might  have  been  inscribed 

"  All  hope  abandon,  ye  who  enter  here  !  " 

Madame  Roland  was  invulnerable  to  the  shafts 
of  misfortune.  Locked  into  her  room,  she  sat 
down,  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  say- 
ing, "  Well,  here  I  am  in  prison  ! "  fell  into  a  pro- 
found reverie.  There  she  was,  calm  as  to  her 
own  fate,  inexpressibly  anxious  concerning  that 
of  her  country  and  her  friends,  when,  on  the  2d 
of  June,  the  familiar  sounds  of  insurrection 
reached  her  in  captivity.  Marat  himself  that 
day  sounded  the  tocsin  to  call  the  people  to 
arms ;  Henriot,  the  ruffianly  commander,  was 
investing  the  Tuileries,  and  behold  the  Conven- 
tion itself  actually  a  prisoner  in  Paris ! 

After  a  feeble  show  of  resistance,  the  Right 
and  the  Centre,  cowed  by  Henriot's  cannon, 
agreed  to  the  expulsion  of  the  twenty-two  Giron- 
dins,  who  to  smooth  matters  were  only  to  be  put 
under  arrest  at  home.  So  fell  the  Gironde  ;  and 
it  is  refreshing  to  find  among  the  list  of  the  pro- 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  2$? 

scribed  the  heroic  name  of  Ducos,  that  martyr  to 
friendship,  who  when  Marat  would  have  saved 
him  because  of  his  extreme  youth  scorned  his 
mercy,  and  cast  in  his  lot  with  Fonfrede,  be  his 
fate  what  it  might. 

"  Things  are  rarely  what  they  seem,"  says  Ma- 
dame Roland  in  her  Memoirs,  "  and  the  periods 
of  my  life  that  have  been  the  sweetest  were  the 
reverse  of  what  outsiders  would  imagine.  Happi- 
ness, in  fact,  belongs  to  a  state  of  feeling,  and  not 
to  external  circumstances."  Circumstances  were 
now  at  their  darkest,  but  hidden  in  her  heart  she 
had  a  hive  of  honey.  In  reviewing  her  past  life 
she  had  nothing  with  which  to  reproach  herself ; 
she  had  done  her  duty  valiantly.  In  the  very 
act  of  securing  her  husband's  liberty  she  had 
sacrificed  her  own.  From  the  beginning  of  their 
union  all  her  faculties  had  been  placed  at  his  ser- 
vice, and  reinforcing  his  powers  with  hers,  she 
had  practically  lifted  him  into  the  important  posi- 
tion which  had  now  ended  in  ruin.  But  in  this 
marriage  "  the  ascendancy  of  twenty  years'  sen- 
iority, added  to  a  domineering  temper,"  had  been 
a  heavy  burden,  which  the  wife  had  still  borne 
with  uncomplaining  fortitude. 

She  never  ceased  to  honor  and  esteem  "  the 

virtuous  Roland;"  she  was  devoted  to  him  as  a 

daughter,  she  says ;  but  that  love  which  he  had 

never  awakened  in  her,  which  her  powerful  organi- 

17 


258  MADAME  ROLAND. 

zation  could  not  escape,  seized  hold  of  her  in  the 
stormiest  days  of  the  Revolution,  to  raise  as  fierce 
a  storm  in  her  heart  and  shake  the  fabric  of  her 
life  to  its  foundations.  The  fiery  trial  through 
which  she  had  passed  in  finding  a  man  who  an- 
swered to  her  ideal  by  the  courage,  purity,  and 
elevation  of  his  nature,  and  who,  while  recipro- 
cating her  passion,  recognized  as  fully  as  she  did 
herself  the  inviolability  of  previous  ties,  —  this 
trial  had  been  so  terrible  that  persecution,  im- 
prisonment, the  scaffold  itself,  sank  by  comparison 
into  insignificance.  Yes;  when  once  her  con- 
jugal bonds  had  been  forcibly  wrenched  asunder, 
she  welcomed  the  prison  as  a  deliverance  from 
her  invisible  captivity,  cherishing  the  fetters  winch 
left  her  free  to  love  her  friend  unrestrictedly, 
and  thanking  Heaven  for  having  substituted  her 
present  chains  for  those  which  she  had  previously 
borne.  Could  any  words  more  forcibly  express 
through  what  a  terrible  struggle  she  had  passed  ? 
And  these  words  would  never  have  left  her  lips 
had  she  not  been  shut  out  from  the  world,  and 
been  writing  to  Buzot  under  the  shadow  of  the 
guillotine. 

In  reading  the  letters  which  the  captive  woman 
sent  to  the  proscribed  republican,  we  must  never 
lose  sight  of  the  unique  situation  in  which  they 
were  penned,  nor  of  the  improbability  of  these 
lovers  ever  again  meeting,  —  which  added  a  child- 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  259 

like  openness  to  the  tragic  intensity  of  feelings 
that  seemed  already  to  belong  to  the  departed. 

In  the  eyes  of  many  to  whom  are  thus  revealed 
the  inmost  recesses  of  Madame  Roland's  heart, 
she  may  seem  reprehensible  for  having  allowed  a 
feeling  to  take  root  in  her  heart  opposed  to  that 
which  she  owed  to  her  husband.  But  the  Revo- 
lution, by  loosening  the  bonds  of  custom,  by 
stimulating  the  vital  energies,  by  communicating 
her  volcanic  commotions  to  her  children,  pre- 
pared the  soil  for  those  insurrections  of  the  heart 
and  heroisms  of  love  so  pathetically  interwoven 
with  its  political  history.  Now  it  is  a  Danton, 
who,  convulsed  beside  the  grave  of  his  wife  (de- 
ceased in  his  absence)  has  her  dug  up,  and 
clasps  her  inanimate  corpse  in  his  arms  in  trans- 
ports of  despair.  Now  it  is  a  Vergniaud,  for 
whom  to  stay  in  Paris  is  death,  and  who  stays 
that  he  may  not  shorten  by  an  hour  his  inter- 
course with  Mademoiselle  Candeille,  the  beautiful 
actress  he  adores.  Now  it  is  a  Lucile,  fair  young 
wife  of  Desmoulins,  who  glides  round  the  prison 
like  his  shadow,  and  like  his  shadow,  too,  follows 
uncomplainingly  to  the  guillotine. 

That  whole  generation,  while  the  social  fabric 
was  yielding  and  cracking  beneath  its  feet,  and 
while  death  encompassed  it,  was  consumed  by 
the  thirst  for  life.  Into  its  brief  existence  it 
crammed  centuries  of  thought,  action,  suffering. 


260  MADAME  ROLAND. 

It  was  ready  to  shatter  all  obstacles  that  hindered 
the  current  of  its  passions.  The  indissolubility 
of  the  marriage  tie  had  been  cancelled.  An  in- 
terval of  a  few  months  sufficed  between  the  rup- 
ture of  the  old  union  and  the  formation  of  the 
new.  In  this  very  month  of  May,  1793,  the 
records  of  the  "  Moniteur "  prove  the  cases  of 
divorce  to  have  been  one  third  in  proportion  to 
the  marriages.  Madame  Roland  no  more  be- 
lieved in  the  indissolubility  of  the  conjugal  tie 
than  did  her  contemporaries ;  and  the  bond 
which  claimed  to  keep  together  two  people  made 
incompatible  by  differences  of  age,  temperament, 
or  sentiments,  appeared  to  her  both  anomalous 
and  cruel.  But  she  never  considered  the  possi- 
bility of  applying  this  reasoning  to  her  own 
situation.  Her  theories  never  served  her  as 
stepping-stones  to  license.  The  more  old  foot- 
holds of  custom  seemed  giving  way  beneath  her, 
the  more  frantically  she  clung  to  her  ideal  of 
Duty,  that  rock  which  had  hitherto  upheld  her. 
When  it  came  to  a  question  of  gaining  her  own 
happiness  or  of  spoiling  the  last  years  of  Roland's 
fretted  existence,  she  never  hesitated  at  the  sac- 
rifice. And  does  not  the  highest  moral  worth 
consist  in  overcoming  temptation  rather  than  in 
never  having  been  led  into  it  ? 

The  perfect  candor  of  Madame  Roland's  nature 
had  not  suffered  her  to  live  in  confidential  inter- 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  261 

course  with  another  while  hiding  -her  thoughts 
from  him.  It  would  have  seemed  like  treason. 
She  had  confessed  everything,  laying  her  heart 
bare  before  Roland.  u  The  knowledge  that  I  am 
making  a  sacrifice  for  him,"  she  says,  "  has  upset 
his  happiness.  He  suffers  in  accepting  what  yet 
he  cannot  do  without."  Roland,  if  exacting  in 
daily  life,  could  rise  to  great  occasions.  He 
entered  magnanimously  into  his  wife's  trouble ; 
and  there  goes  a  tradition  that  he  had  formed  a 
resolution  of  voluntarily  leaving  her,  should  she 
not  succeed  in  stifling  her  love.  But  she  would 
never  have  consented  to  this,  knowing  as  she 
did  how  closely  the  fibres  of  his  life  were  bound 
up  in  hers :  having  so  completely  fulfilled  her 
maxim  that  a  woman  must  make  the  man's  hap- 
piness in  marriage,  that  he  could  not  live  without 
her.  Truly  there  seemed  no  way  of  disentangling 
this  moral  knot,  when  the  Revolution  came  and 
cut  it  in  two  by  throwing  Madame  Roland  into 
prison. 

A  sense  of  unwonted  lull  came  to  her  behind 
the  iron  bars.  The  reins  had  been  roughly 
snatched  from  her  hands,  and  there  was  nothing 
for  her  to  do  but  let  the  fatality  of  events  carry 
her  whither  they  would.  With  her  habitual  promp- 
titude and  love  of  order,  she  began  arranging  her 
cell,  placing  a  rickety  little  table  near  the  window 
ready  for  writing,  and,  to  avoid  disarranging  it, 


262  MADAME  ROLAND. 

having  her  meals  set  out  on  the  mantel-piece. 
These  she  tried  to  limit  to  what  was  strictly 
necessary,  although  she  was  free  to  spend  what 
she  liked  on  herself.  The  allowance  of  prisoners 
had  been  reduced  by  Roland  from  4s.  2d.  to  is. 
8d.  a  day,  but  the  rise  in  the  price  of  provisions, 
tripled  within  a  few  months,  made  this  sum  inade- 
quate, after  the  deduction  of  expenses  for  bed, 
etc.  Retrenching  her  wants  as  far  as  her  health 
permitted,  she  took  bread  and  water  for  break- 
fast, a  plain  dish  of  meat  and  vegetables  for 
dinner,  and  a  few  greens  for  supper ;  the  sum 
thus  economized  she  spent  on  the  wretches  who 
were  lying  upon  straw,  u  that  while  eating  her 
dry  bread  in  the  morning  she  might  feel  the 
satisfaction  that  the  poor  reprobates  would,  owing 
to  her,  be  able  to  add  something  to  their  dinner." 
Books  and  flowers,  whose  soothing,  uncom- 
plaining companionship  had  been  dear  to  her 
from  childhood,  became  the  solace  of  her  cap- 
tivity. Thomson's  "  Seasons,"  a  favorite  book, 
had  been  in  her  pocket  on  the  night  of  her  im- 
prisonment. She  sent  for  Plutarch,  who  had 
made  her  a  republican  at  eight  years  of  age,  and 
whose  "  Lives  "  might  help  her  to  bear  with  for- 
titude the  reverses  of  her  own  ;  for  Hume's  "  His- 
tory of  England,"  and  for  Tacitus.  To  her  regret 
she  could  not  procure  Mrs.  Macaulay's  "  History 
of  the  English  Revolution,"  a  work  at  that  time 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  263 

greatly  admired  by  French  Republicans,  and  which 
she  would  fain  have  matched  by  a  rival  produc- 
tion in  her  mother  tongue. 

The  rare  beauty  of  Madame  Roland's  character 
and  her  winning  manners  could  not  fail  to  gain 
the  hearts  of  all  who  came  in  contact  with  her. 
The  jailer's  wife  showed  her  every  kindness,  made 
her  sit  in  her  own  room  where  the  air  was  purer, 
and  where  she  was  able  to  receive  friends.  Even 
the  turnkeys,  some  most  villanous  of  appearance, 
became  humanized  in  her  presence.  Her  faithful 
friends  rallied  round  her,  Bosc  assuring  her  of  the 
safety  of  her  daughter,  placed  by  him  under  the 
protection  of  a  worthy,  kind-hearted  lady,  in  whose 
family  she  remained  like  one  of  her  own  children. 
To  Champagneux,  who  had  always  admired  her, 
she  had  never  appeared  so  great  as  now,  "  when 
she  gave  to  the  prison  the  dignity  of  a  throne." 
The  kindly  Grandpre,  appointed  Inspector  of  Pris- 
ons by  Roland  to  obviate  some  of  their  grossest 
abuses,  proposed  that  she  should  address  the 
Minister  of  Justice  and  the  Minister  of  the  Inte- 
rior to  protest  against  an  imprisonment  for  which 
no  cause  had  been  assigned.  She  readily  con- 
sented, more  to  vent  her  indignation  than  from 
any  expectation  of  a  favorable  result. 

Tranquil  on  her  own  account,  she  was  racked 
by  cruel  anxieties  concerning  Roland  and  her  pro- 
scribed friends,  especially  the  one  dearest  of  all. 


264  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Roland  had  fled,  and  was  now  sheltered  in  the 
house  of  some  ladies  who  lavished  every  care  and 
kindness  on  him.  Some  of  the  Girondins  were 
under  arrest  at  their  own  homes,  having  remained 
in  pledge  of  the  good  faith  of  those  who  had  es- 
caped to  the  provinces,  among  whom  were  Barbar- 
oux,  Louvet,  Petion,  and  Buzot.  None  of  the 
most  prominent  Girondins  had  been  to  the  Con- 
vention on  the  2d  of  June :  they  had,  therefore, 
been  able  to  take  flight.  But  it  was  only  by  force 
that  his  friends  had  prevented  the  determined 
Buzot  from  rushing  to  the  tribune,  where  he  would 
have  wished  to  make  his  protest  and  die.  He 
now  proceeded  to  Caen,  which  became  the  centre 
of  Girondin  agitation. 

While  Madame  Roland,  behind  her  bolts  and 
bars,  was  striving  after  an  inward  calm  impervi- 
ous to  calamity,  she  was  rudely  disturbed  in  her 
meditations  by  loud  cries  persistently  repeated 
under  her  windows.  They  were  those  of  the 
newsmonger  proclaiming  to  the  people  "La 
gj-ande  coltre,  the  great  rage  of  the  Pere  Du- 
chesne against  that  woman  Roland  imprisoned 
at  the  Abbaye,  and  the  discovery  of  the  great 
conspiracy  of  the  Rolandists,  Buzotins,  Petion- 
ists,  Girondins,  in  league  with  the  rebels  of  the 
Vendee  and  the  agents  of  England."  Obscene 
language,  conveying  the  foulest  abuse,  was  per- 
sistently shouted  in  the  hearing  of  the  captive. 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON,  265 

Hebert,  the  vulture  of  journalism,  marked  the 
destined  victim,  hovering  round  her  in  ever-nar- 
rowing circles,  ready  to  strike  his  talons  into  her 
heart.  These  persistent  asseverations  of  the 
presence  of  Roland's  wife  at  the  Abbaye  seemed 
calculated  to  incite  the  mob  to  a  repetition  of 
their  September  exploits ;  but  the  reprobation 
with  which  the  Girondins  had  not  ceased  to 
brand  them  had  had  its  effect.  They  themselves 
were  destined  to  benefit  by  that  impulse  of  hu- 
manity. Stung  to  the  quick  by  the  infamy  of 
Hebert's  calumnies,  Madame  Roland  wrote  to 
Garat,  the  Minister  of  the  Interior,  with  a  pen 
that  knew  how  to  stab :  — 

"Garat!  to  you  I  report  this  insult.  It  is  due  to  your 
cowardice  ;  and  if  still  worse  things  should  happen,  it  is 
on  your  head  I  invoke  the  vengeance  of  Heaven.  .  .  . 
Yes,  I  know  what  events  usually  follow  on  those  outra- 
geous provocations.  What  matter  ?  I  have  long  been 
ready.  In  any  case,  accept  this  farewell,  which  I  send  to 
prey  on  your  heart  like  a  vulture." 

While  still  sore  from  the  revolting  infamies  of 
the  Pere  Duchesne,  there  came  to  her  the  sweet- 
est consolation  fate  could  still  vouchsafe,  —  a  letter 
from  Buzot.    She  replied  to  it  on  the  22d  of  June  : x 

"  How  often  have  I  not  read  it,  pressed  it  to  my  heart, 
covered  it  with  kisses  !  .  .  .  I  felt  calm  and  resolute  on 

1  The  four  letters  written,  during  her  imprisonment,  to  Buzot, 
and  published  for  the  first  time  in  1864  by  M.  Dauban  in  his 
"  litude  sur  Madame  Roland,"  came  to  light  in  November,  1863, 


266  MADAME  ROLAND. 

coming  here,  not  without  hopes  for  the  defenders  of 
liberty  ;  but  when  I  heard  the  decree  of  arrest  against  the 
Two-and-twenty  I  cried,  ■  My  country  is  lost ! '  I  have  suf- 
fered tortures  till  assured  of  your  safety.  .  .  .  Continue 
your  noble  efforts,  my  friend  !  Brutus  despaired  too  soon 
of  his  country's  safety  on  the  plains  of  Philippi.  As  long 
as  a  single  determined  republican  is  free,  he  must  and  can 
be  useful. 

"  As  for  me,  I  shall  calmly  await  the  return  of  justice,  or 
endure  the  last  excesses  of  tyranny  in  such  a  way  that  my 
example  may  not  prove  useless.  What  I  feared  most  was 
that  you  might  take  some  imprudent  steps  on  my  account. 
My  friend,  it  is  by  saving  France  that  you  can  insure  my 
safety.  Nor  do  I  care  for  safety  at  its  cost ;  but  shall  die 
contentedly  if  I  know  that  you  are  of  use  to  your  country. 
Death,  sorrow,  torments  are  nothing  to  me,  I  can  defy 
them ;  believe  me,  I  shall  live  to  my  last  hour  without 
wasting  an  instant  in  ignoble  fears.  .  .  . 

"  Certain  privileges,  due  to  my  humane  keepers,  I  am 
forced  to  keep  secret  for  fear  of  compromising  them ;  but 
kind  actions  are  more  binding  than  chains,  and  supposing 
I  could  save  myself  to-morrow,  I  would  not,  for  fear  of 
ruining  the  honest  jailer  who  does  his  best  to  soften  my 
captivity.  ...  I  have  my  Thomson  (dear  to  me  on  more 
accounts  than  one),  Shaftesbury,  an  English  dictionary, 
Tacitus,  and  Plutarch  ;  I  lead  the  same  life  as  in  my  study 
at  home,  at  the  Ministerial  dwelling,  or  elsewhere.  ...  I 

when  they  were  sold  among  a  bundle  of  time-yellowed  papers,  — 
the  unpublished  Memoirs  of  Louvet  and  Petion,  a  copy  of  the 
Memoirs  of  Buzot,  a  tragedy  of  Salles,  Notes  and  Memoranda 
by  Barbaroux.  The  whole  lot  went  for  fifty  francs.  These  let- 
ters, penned  for  one  only,  written  without  the  faintest  thought 
of  the  public,  illuminate  with  a  fresh  light  the  heart  of  the  noble 
woman  whose  last  confession  they  were. 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  267 

have  prevented  R from  addressing  himself  to  the  Con- 
vention since  the  2d  of  June.  It  is  no  longer  the  National 
Assembly  to  persons  of  high  principles.  I  know  of  no 
constituted  authority  now  in  Paris  from  which  I  should 
care  to  solicit  anything  ;  I  would  prefer  rotting  in  my 
chains  to  such  humiliation.  The  tyrants  may  oppress, 
but  degrade  me,  —  never!  never!  .  .  .  The  unfortunate 
R — —  has  been  in  hiding  with  several  timorous  friends 
within  the  last  twenty  days,  screened  from  all  eyes,  — more 
of  a  captive  than  I.  I  am  anxious  about  the  state  of  his 
head  and  health;  he  is  now  in  your  neighborhood  —  ah  ! 
would  he  were  so,  morally  speaking.  I  hardly  dare  tell 
you,  what  you  only  will  understand,  that  I  was  not  over 
sorry  at  being  arrested.     *  They  will  be  less  furious,  less 

eager  in  R 's  pursuit,'  said   I   to  myself,  and  should 

they  proceed  to  a  trial  I  may  be  able  to  meet  it  in  a  way 
most  creditable  to  his  reputation.  It  seemed  to  me  I  was 
thus  acquitting  myself  of  a  debt  due  to  his  sufferings  ;  but 
do  you  not  see  that  in  being  alone  it  is  with  you  I  abide  ? 
Thus  I  sacrifice  myself  to  my  husband  by  a  captivity  that 
gives  me  more  to  my  friend,  and  I  owe  it  to  my  persecutors 
to  have  reconciled  duty  and  love  :  do  not  pity  me!  .  .  . 

"Man  a?ni,  in  yours  of  the  15th  I  have  recognized  the 
manly  tone  of  a  proud  and  independent  spirit  occupied 
with  lofty  plans,  triumphing  over  fate,  capable  of  generous 
resolutions  and  sustained  effort.  How  vividly  it  called  up 
the  feelings  which  unite  us  !  But  how  sad  is  yours  of  the 
19th,  — how  sombre  its  conclusion  !  A  great  matter,  for- 
sooth, to  know  whether  a  woman  will  survive  you  or  not  ! 
What  does  matter  is  to  preserve  your  life  so  as  to  be  of 
use  to  your  country  ;  the  rest  will  follow." 

The  rest  will  follow  !  With  those  few  scornful 
words  the  prisoner  puts  aside  the  consideration 


268  MADAME  ROLAND. 

of  her  personal  lot,  to  invite  her  lover  to  concern 
himself  solely  about  that  of  his  country.  Here 
we  surprise  the  most  intimate  movements  of  Ma- 
dame Roland's  heart,  when  she  had  left  the  world 
behind  her  and  was  speaking  to  one  only,  and 
that  one  forever  separated  from  her.  Is  it  possi- 
ble for  a  noble  nature  to  express  intenser  affec- 
tion than  by  rendering  thanks  to  the  dungeon  for 
having  at  last  reconciled  duty  and  love  ?  And 
yet  love  itself  is  subordinated  to  her  country, 
ever  first  with  her. 

Was  it  likely  that  she  or  her  friends  would 
wish  to  ruin  France  by  fomenting  a  civil  war? 
Their  mistake  really  lay  in  miscalculating  the 
extent  of  their  influence  and  the  spirit  of  the  De- 
partments. They  had  fancied  that  their  first 
summons  would  electrify  the  provinces,  rally  the 
country  round  the  Girondins,  and  deliver  Paris 
from  what  they  considered  the  despotism  of  a 
small  terrorist  faction.  They  argued  in  their 
indignation  that  they  would  defend  the  unity  and 
indivisibility  of  the  Republic  from  the  encroach- 
ing violence  of  the  capital.  Buzot,  in  his  Memoirs, 
gives  a  succinct  statement  of  the  plan  they  had 
proposed  to  themselves.  This  plan  consisted  in 
effecting  a  junction  between  the  troops  of  the 
Departments  and  the  inhabitants  of  Paris  ;  of 
re-establishing  the  Convention  in  its  integrity,  and 
of  insuring  its  liberty  of  action  by  a  guard  to  be 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  269 

chosen  from  all  the  Departments  ;  and  to  have 
the  members  of  the  Convention  tried  by  judges, 
to  be  likewise  elected  by  the  Departments.  This 
was  the  extent  of  Girondin  federalism.  A  proc- 
lamation was  drawn  up  at  Caen  for  the  purpose 
of  raising  a  national  force.  Eight  departments 
of  Brittany  and  Normandy  became  the  centre  of 
the  coalition  ;  but  in  other  parts  of  France  —  at 
Bordeaux,  Rennes,  Limoges,  Marseilles,  Besan- 
con,  Dijon,  etc. — there  were  symptoms  of  insur- 
rection. The  Girondins  had  intrusted  their  fate 
to  the  hands  of  General  Wimpfen,  who  had 
served  under  Dumouriez,  —  an  excellent  soldier, 
who  put  his  sword  at  their  disposal.  While  col- 
lecting troops,  he  issued  an  address  to  the  Metrop- 
olis, proclaiming  that  his  intention  was  to  march 
towards,  not  against,  Paris,  for  the  sake  of  Paris 
itself  and  that  of  the  Republic. 

However  fair-seeming  these  threats,  veiled 
under  an  appearance  of  good  intentions,  civil 
war  must  have  inevitably  followed  them,  but  for 
one  insuperable  obstacle,  —  that  of  the  sincere 
republicanism  of  the  Girondins.  Rage  might 
have  blinded  them  for  an  instant  to  the  conse- 
quences of  their  proceedings  ;  but  they  had  no 
sooner  clearly  realized  them  than  they  gave  up 
all  thought  of  fomenting  the  insurrection.  If 
their  enemies  could  only  be  reached  by  striking 
at   the   Revolution   first,   then  let   their   enemies 


270  MADAME  ROLAND. 

triumph  !  Mountain  and  Gironde  equally  shrank 
from  the  terrible  conflict  ;  and  the  consequence 
was  that  when  Puisaye,  appointed  second  in  com- 
mand by  General  Wimpfen,  marched  his  five  or 
six  hundred  men,  chiefly  from  the  remotest  parts 
of  Brittany,  towards  Vernon,  near  Evreux,  to  meet 
the  forces  of  the  Mountain  coming  from  Paris, 
the  combatants  had  so  little  confidence  in  their 
cause  that  without  striking  a  blow  they  took  to 
flight,  leaving  neither  wounded  nor  killed.  The 
Mountain,  with  generous  sagacity,  had  gone  on 
the  tack  of  treating  the  insurrection  in  the  Cal- 
vados as  a  pardonable  error,  born  of  the  intrigues 
of  a  few  conspirators  ;  and  the  result  was  that 
the  inhabitants  were  only  too  eager  to  testify 
their  adhesion  to  the  ruling  powers. 

Under  these  distressing  circumstances,  General 
Wimpfen  dropped  the  mask  of  semi-republicanism 
with  which  he  had  hitherto  deluded  the  Girondins, 
showed  himself  under  his  true  Royalist  colors, 
and  informed  them  bluntly  that  there  remained 
only  one  means  of  promptly  and  effectively  at- 
taining their  object,  — that  was  to  open  negotia- 
tions with  England,  for  which  he  already  possessed 
the  necessary  facilities,  if  they  would  intrust  mat- 
ters to  his  hands.  The  founders  of  the  Republic 
were  horror-stricken.  Without  consulting  with 
each  other  they  rose  as  one  man,  and  broke  up 
the    Conference   in    indignant    silence.      If    they 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  2*]\ 

erred  in  not  carrying  out  to  the  letter  Vergniaud's 
heroic  proposal,  they  speedily  retrieved  their  error, 
and  so  saved  France  from  impending  ruin.  But 
they  themselves  were  now  effectually  ruined ; 
there  was  no  longer  any  abiding  for  them  in 
Calvados.  The  decree  of  the  Convention,  which 
declared  them  Hors  la  loi  (outlawed)  had  been 
placarded  on  the  Intendance  Mansion  at  Caen. 
Buzot's  house  at  Evreux  had  been  razed  to  the 
ground  and  a  gallows  erected  in  its  place,  with  the 
inscription,  "  Here  dwelt  the  traitor  Buzot."  The 
earth  seemed  to  recede  from  beneath  them.  Dis- 
guised as  soldiers  in  the  ranks  of  the  company 
of  the  Breton  National  Guards  returning  to  their 
homes,  they  left  Caen  behind  them. 

Some  three  weeks  earlier,  on  the  morning  of 
the  24th  of  June,  the  Citoyenne  Roland  was 
informed,  to  her  surprise,  that  she  was  set  at 
liberty,  nothing  having  been  found  against  her 
to  warrant  her  detention.  She  lost  no  time  in 
collecting  her  few  things,  getting  into  a  coach, 
and  driving  to  her  apartments  in  the  Rue  de 
la  Harpe.  Light  as  a  bird  she  flew  down  the 
step,  was  joyfully  welcomed  by  the  woman  of 
the  house,  and  intended,  after  leaving  a  few  di- 
rections, to  hurry  to  the  kind  family  who  had 
adopted  her  child,  when  two  men,  who  had 
followed  at  her  heels,  stopped  her  on  the  stairs, 
crying,  "  Citoyenne  Roland  !  " 


272  MADAME  ROLAND. 

"What  do  you  want  ?"  asked  she,  looking  back. 
"  We  arrest  you  in  the  name  of  the  law  !  " 
Had  ingenious  persecutors  laid  their  heads 
together  to  concoct  a  plan  for  more  effectually 
tormenting  their  victim,  they  could  not  have  de- 
vised a  more  successful  one.  The  door  of  the 
cage  had  hardly  been  opened,  —  the  resignation 
of  the  prisoner  had  hardly  given  place  to  a  thrill 
of  joy  at  her  freedom,  and  to  the  delightful  antici- 
pation of  again  clasping  her  daughter  to  her  heart, 

—  when  she  was  recaptured.  In  her  vivid  descrip- 
tion of  this  event  Madame  Roland  herself  gives 
up  attempting  a  description  of  the  disappointment 
she  suffered. 

Once  more  dragged  to  prison,  she  did  not  sub- 
mit to  this  second  incarceration  without  a  protest 
addressed  to  the  section  of  Beaurepaire,  —  its  only 
result  being  that  of  leading  to  the  imprisonment 
and  death  of  the  younger  Cauchois,  son  of  her 
landlord,  who  made  some  efforts  to  save  her. 
Taken  to  Sainte  Pelagie  this  time,  —  a  sinister 
prison,  situated  in  a  low,  remote  quarter  of  Paris, 

—  the  great  citoyenne  was  lodged  in  a  narrow 
cell,  only  separated  by  a  thin  partition  from  that 
of  assassins  and  prostitutes,  where  it  was  impossi- 
ble to  avoid  hearing  the  foulest  language  and 
seeing  the  most  revolting  sights,  —  the  building 
where  the  men  were  kept  facing  the  wing  occu- 
pied by  the  women,  who  between  them  kept  up  a 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  273 

perpetual  fire  of  ribald  jokes  and  indecencies.  As 
she  had  no  option  between  taking  exercise  in  a 
filthy  room  in  the  company  of  those  miscreants, 
or  of  remaining  shut  up  in  her  cell,  she  preferred 
the  latter,  vainly  trying  to  mitigate  the  stifling 
heat  of  July  by  wrapping  paper  and  leaves  round 
the  bars,  glowing  with  the  sun.  But  her  mental 
suffering  rendered  her  almost  oblivious  to  these 
trials.  The  hope  of  seeing  her  daughter,  again, 
so  cruelly  foiled,  had  struck  her  a  heavy  blow, 
and  she  dared  not  even  indulge  in  the  luxury  of 
sending  for  her  occasionally,  lest  the  girl  should 
attract  the  attention  of  the  Argus-eyed  Hebert 
and  company,  and  be  thrown  into  prison  as  the 
offspring  of  "  conspirators."  Such  cases  were 
not  unknown,  and  alarmed  her  indescribably. 
Grief  overwhelmed  her ;  but  only  for  a  moment. 
In  her  next  letter  to  Buzot,  of  the  3d  of  July, 
there  is  no  trace  of  weakness.     She  says  :  — 

"  My  friend,  do  not  let  us  transgress  so  far  as  to  strike 
the  bosom  of  our  mother  in  speaking  ill  of  that  virtue  which 
we  buy  by  cruel  sacrifices,  it  is  true,  but  which  in  turn  re- 
pays us  by  such  precious  rewards.  .  .  .  Tell  me,  do  you 
know  a  greater  gain  than  that  of  rising  superior  to  adversity 
and  death,  and  of  finding  something  in  your  heart  capable 
of  sweetening  and  embellishing  existence  to  its  latest  breath  ? 
Tell  me,  did  anything  ever  give  you  this  experience  more 
fully  than  the  knowledge  of  our  mutual  attachment,  in  spite 
of  the  contradictions  of  society  and  the  horrors  of  oppres- 
sion? ...  I  will  not  gainsay  that  I  am  indebted  to  it  for 
being  pleased  with  captivity.      Proud  of  persecution  at  a 


274  MADAME  ROLAND. 

time  when  virtue  and  character  are  proscribed,  I  would 
have  borne  it  with  dignity,  even  apart  from  you ;  but  you 
endear  it  to  me.  The  wicked  think  to  crush  me  with  their 
chains.  Madmen!  what  care  I  whether  I  am  here  or  there? 
Does  not  my  heart  go  with  me  everywhere ;  and  is  it  not 
in  prison  that  I  am  free  to  follow  its  dictates  ?  .  .  .  From 
the  moment  I  am  alone  my  duties  are  restricted  to  good 
wishes  for  what  is  just  and  honest,  and  even  so  you  still 
claim  the  first  place.  Nay,  I  know  too  well  what  would 
have  been  my  duty  in  the  natural  course  of  things  to  com- 
plain of  the  violence  which  has  snatched  me  from  it.  If  I 
must  die  .  .  .  well,  I  know  of  life  the  best  it  contains, 
while  its  continuance  would  probably  only  exact  fresh  sacri- 
fices. .  .  .  The  moment  in  which  I  gloried  most  in  my  exis- 
tence, when  I  felt  most  vividly  that  exaltation  of  soul  which 
dares  all  dangers  and  rejoices  in  facing  them,  was  the  one 
on  which  I  entered  this  Bastile  to  which  the  executioners 
have  sent  me.  ...  It  seemed  to  give  me  an  occasion  of 
serving  Roland  by  the  firmness  with  which  I  could  bear 
witness ;  and  it  seemed  sweet  to  be  of  some  use  to  him, 
while,  at  the  same  time,  my  seclusion  left  me  more  entirely 
yours.  I  should  like  to  sacrifice  my  life  to  him,  that  I  might 
have  the  right  of  giving  my  last  breath  to  you  alone." 

It  was  no  fine-sounding  phrase,  when  the  wife 
of  Roland  said  she  would  sacrifice  her  life  for  him  ! 
She  had  effectually  done  so !  And  though  sev- 
eral persons  were  sent  at  intervals,  both  by  Roland 
and  Buzot,  to  help  her  to  escape  (a  not  impractic- 
able scheme,  especially  from  the  Abbaye),  she  per- 
sistently refused  to  avail  herself  of  this  chance, — 
partly  from  fear  lest  the  pursuit  of  her  unhappy 
husband  would  be  carried  on   with  greater  zeal 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  2y$ 

when  she  could  no  longer  act  as  scapegoat  for 
him,  and  partly,  as  we  have  seen,  not  to  risk  the 
liberty  of  the  good  jailer  who  should  connive  at 
hers ;  so  she  remained,  making  lighter  of  her  po- 
sition than  she  felt  it  to  be,  to  allay  the  anxieties 
of  the  proscribed  Buzot,  to  whom  she  wrote  again 
on  the  6th  of  July  :  — 

"Calm  yourself,  my  friend;  this  new  captivity  has  not 
aggravated  my  state  so  much  that  we  should  risk  anything 
to  change  it.  .  .  .  Fourteen  days  ago  I  sent  for  this  dear 
picture, x  which  hitherto,  by  a  kind  of  superstition,  I  would 
not  place  in  a  prison.  But  why  deny  myself  this  poor  and 
precious  consolation  in  the  absence  of  the  original  ?  It  is 
next  to  my'heart,  hidden  from  all  eyes,  felt  at  all  moments, 
and  often  bathed  with  my  tears.  Yes  ;  I  admire  your  cour- 
age, I  am  honored  by  your  attachment,  and  glory  in  the 
efforts  with  which  these  sentiments  may  inspire  your  proud 
and  sensitive  soul.  .  .  .  Whoever  is  capable  of  loving  as 
we  do  feels  within  himself  the  root  of  all  great  and  good 
actions,  the  reward  of  the  heaviest  sacrifices,  a  consolation 
in  all  trials.     Adieu,  my  best  beloved,  adieu  ! ' 

The  last  letter  she  sent  to  the  outlaw  was 
penned   on    the   7th    of   July.      After   that   date 

1  "  This  dear  picture"  is  written  in  English  in  the  original.  It 
was  Buzot's  miniature,  already  spoken  of,  at  the  back  of  which 
Madame  Roland  had  affixed  a  closely-written  sketch  of  the  origi- 
nal. She  had  given  him  hers  in  return,  as  may  be  inferred  from 
the  allusion  in  her  letter  to  Servan.  This  miniature  of  Buzot, 
which  she  probably  carried  with  her  to  the  scaffold,  was  discov- 
ered, in  1863,  amid  a  heap  of  vegetables  at  a  green -grocer's  stall 
at  Batignolles,  and  came  into  the  possession  of  M.  Vatel,  through 
whom  it  was  made  known  to  M.  Dauban. 


276  MADAME  ROLAND. 

Buzot  lost  his  last  ray  of  comfort  in  the  cessation 
of  all  intercourse  with  her  whose  picture  he,  too, 
carried  next  his  heart. 

"  You  cannot  imagine  the  charms  of  a  prison,  mon  ami, 
where  we  are  only  responsible  to  ourselves  for  what  use 
we  make  of  time !  No  tiresome  interruptions,  no  painful 
sacrifices,  no  petty  cares  ;  none  of  those  duties  all  the  more 
imperious  because  they  appeal  to  our  sense  of  right ;  none 
of  those  conflicts  between  the  laws  or  prejudices  of  soci- 
ety and  our  dearest  impulses  ;  no  jealous  looks  to  watch  us 
and  everything  we  do;  nobody  who  suffers  from  one's  mel- 
ancholy or  inaction,  or  who  exacts  sentiments  beyond  one's 
control.  Given  back  to  oneself,  with  no  obstacles  to  over- 
come, one  may  honestly  give  free  play  to  one's  thoughts, 
without  injuring  the  rights  or  affections  of  any  one,  and 
thus  recover  moral  independence  in  the  bosom  of  captivity. 
But  I  would  not  have  allowed  myself  this  kind  of  independ- 
ence by  disburdening  myself  of  another's  happiness  which 
I  yet  found  it  so  difficult  to  make.  Events  have  brought 
about  what  I  could  not  have  achieved  myself  without  a 
kind  of  crime.  How  I  cherish  the  fetters  where  I  am  free 
to  love  you  wholly,  and  where  I  may  always  think  of  you  ! 
.  .  .  Persevere  in  your  generous  efforts,  serve  your  coun- 
try, save  liberty  ;  every  one  of  your  actions  is  a  delight  to 
me,  and  your  conduct  makes  my  triumph.  .  .  .  Oh,  you 
who  are  as  dear  as  you  deserve  to  be,  temper  the  impatience 
which  torments  you  !  In  thinking  of  my  fetters,  remember 
also  what  I  owe  to  them.  .  .  . 

"  I  have  cordially  approved  the  resolution  of  the  Depart- 
ments to  act  only  in  concert.  I  know  not  whether  these 
delays,  by  giving  the  enemy  so  many  opportunities  for  mak- 
ing his  preparations,  may  not  prove  fatal  to  the  good  cause. 
.  .  .  True,  the  majority  of  Parisians  would  open  their  arms 
to  their  brothers  from  the  Departments  ;  they  are  looking 


LOVE  IN  A   PRISON.  277 

forward  to  them  as  deliverers.  .  .  .  After  so  much  delay, 
there  should  be  no  partial  action ;  they  ought  to  move  in  a 
body  now.  Their  chief  aim  should  be  to  secure  the  Post 
Office,  to  maintain  perfect  discipline,  to  enlighten  public 
opinion  by  lucid  and  truthful  writings,  to  attend  carefully 
to  the  provisions,  to  the  means  of  defraying  the  expenses, 
and  their  wise  regulation.  These  are  the  matters  to  which 
the  deputies  should  attend,  and  which  require  careful  con- 
sideration. There  are  nearly  always  people  enough  fitted 
for  action,  but  only  a  few  able  to  lead.  .  .  . 

"  It  seems  to  me  that  even  independently  of  the  general 
interest,  every  department  requires  the  preservation  of  unity ; 
for,  under  the  false  pretence  that  they  wish  to  destroy  this 
unity,  the  Communes,  once  most  favorably  inclined,  have 
been  set  against  them.  To  take  any  extreme  measure, 
therefore,  would  be  to  incur  the  risk  of  terrible  internal 
divisions.  .  .  . 

"  But  do  you  know  that  you  speak  very  lightly  of  sacri- 
ficing your  life,  and  that  you  seem  to  have  come  to  this 
conclusion  quite  independently  of  me  ?  How  do  you  ex- 
pect me  to  look  upon  it?  Is  it  decreed  that  we  can  only 
deserve  each  other  by  running  to  destruction  ?  And  if  fate 
should  not  permit  us  to  be  soon  reunited,  must  we  there- 
fore abandon  all  hope  of  ever  meeting  again,  and  see  only 
the  tomb  where  our  elements  may  mingle  ?  .  .  .  Adieu,  my 
wellbeloved  ! " 

Yes  ;  for  these  two,  whom  the  fatality  of  pas- 
sion had  linked  together  while  the  law  of  society 
kept  them  asunder,  —  who  had  met  in  their  com- 
mon love  for  the  Republic,  and  been  flung  apart 
by  her,  —  there  remained  nothing  now  but  the 
tomb,  to  which  the  Revolution  was  hurrying  them 
with  gigantic  strides. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


IN    OUTLAWRY. 


On  the  eve  of  the  14th  of  July,  the  fourth  anni- 
versary of  the  storming  of  the  Bastile,  from  which 
the  year  of  Liberty  dated,  a  tall,  beautiful  girl,  in 
Normandy  cap  and  simple  white  dress,  stopped  at 
a  sombre-looking  house  in  the  Rue  des  Cordeliers, 
and  asked  for  Marat.  She  had  come  from  Caen, 
where  she  had  seen  the  proscribed  Girondins,  but 
without  coming  into  personal  relations  with  them, 
though  she  had  spoken  to  Barbaroux,  without  re- 
vealing her  purpose. 

Marat  —  who  knows  not  the  tragic  tale  ?  —  re- 
ceived Charlotte  Corday  sitting  in  a  medicated 
bath,  covered  by  a  board  for  writing,  when  she, 
pretending  to  bring  him  news  of  the  traitors  at 
Caen,  plunged  her  knife  into  his  heart. 

On  the  day  of  Marat's  funeral,  at  which  the 
whole  Convention  assisted,  Champagneux  was  on 
his  way  to  Madame  Roland  in  her  prison.  The 
honors  paid  to  Marat  rilled  her  with  violent  in- 
dignation, succeeded  by  hopeless  gloom.  "  I  shall 
never  leave  this  place,"  said  she,  "  but  for  the 
scaffold.     However,  I  suffer  less  concerning  my 


IN  OUTLAWRY.  279 

own  fate  than  for  the  calamities  which  will  over- 
whelm my  country ;  it  is  ruined  !  "  After  this 
she  was  silent,  but  roused  herself  to  give  Cham- 
pagneux  a  message  for  Brissot,  whom  she  urged 
in  glowing  terms  to  enlighten  his  countrymen  as 
to  the  principles  and  motives  of  his  political  career. 
She  knew  that  nothing  else  remained  ;  and  the 
leader  of  the  Girondins,  discovered  and  arrested 
at  Moulins,  confined  in  the  identical  room  which 
Madame  Roland  had  occupied  at  the  Abbaye,  set 
about  composing  his  "  Testament  Politique."  This 
work,  according  to  Champagneux  the  most  forci- 
ble of  all  Brissot's  writings,  Robespierre  managed 
to  destroy.  Champagneux  seized  the  occasion  of 
the  message  to  impress  upon  Madame  Roland  the 
importance  of  continuing  her  own  private  and 
political  Memoirs,  already  begun,  but  left  off  again 
in  discouragement. 

So  Madame  Roland  resumed  her  pen,  and  with 
her  usual  rapidity  filled  in  the  gray,  small-sized 
sheets  of  paper  with  her  strong,  clear  handwriting. 
How  she  contrived  to  hide  her  manuscript  from  the 
jailers  is  a  mystery.  But  she  had  succeeded  in 
taming  even  the  ruffianly  keepers  of  Sainte  Pela- 
gie,  and  to  her  they  were  full  of  little  atten- 
tions. Two  thirds  of  her  Historical  Notices  had 
already  been  intrusted  to  a  friend,  who  had  burned 
them,  under  apprehensions  of  a  domiciliary  visit. 
The  author,  on  learning  their  fate,  could  not  help 


280  MADAME  ROLAND. 

exclaiming,  "  I  wish  they  had  thrown  me  into  the 
fire  instead  !  "  Standing  on  the  edge  of  the  grave, 
not  knowing  from  day  to  day  whether  she  would 
have  time  to  finish  her  story,  she  intrusted  to 
these  frail  leaves  the  justification  of  her  political 
life.  Undismayed  by  the  trying  miscarriage  of 
her  first  manuscript,  she  wrote  so  rapidly  that  her 
Notices  were  finished  in  the  space  of  a  month, 
and  the  rest  of  her  Memoirs  in  about  three 
weeks. 

These  "  Memoires,"  now  one  of  the  French 
classics,  contain  the  narrative  of  Madame  Ro- 
land's private  life  from  infancy  to  the  date  of  her 
marriage.  Modelled  on  Rousseau's  "  Confessions," 
they  yet  bear  the  impress  of  a  strong,  original 
nature.  Terse  and  limpid  in  style,  they  are  free 
from  that  academic  sententiousness  characteristic 
of  Manon's  youthful  letters,  uniting  shrewdest 
criticism  and  description  of  character  with  the 
idyllic  sentiment  so  dear. to  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, —  a  book  with  a  life  crushed  out  on  its 
leaves ;  the  life  of  a  woman  in  the  plenitude  of 
existence,  yet  already  practically  cut  off  from  it. 
The  circumstances  under  which  this  autobiogra- 
phy was  written,  give  it  the  strangest  pathos. 
These  fresh  pictures  of  child-life,  these  vernal  hours 
of  youth,  that  seem  to  scent  the  pages  containing 
them,  are  painted  on  the  dark  background  of  a 
prison.     Leaning  against  the  bars  of  her  window, 


IN  OUTLAWRY.  28 1 

the  captive  author  sees  again  the  bowers  and 
avenues  of  Meudon,  the  pleasant  garden  in  whose 
arbor  of  honeysuckle  she  has  sat  with  her  parents 
on  the  long-past  summer  days.  As  she  recalls 
the  convent,  with  its  sacred  chants  and  solemn 
organ-peals,  the  vision  is  cruelly  dispelled  by  the 
oaths  and  curses  with  which  thieves  and  forgers 
interlard  their  speech.  Even  while  describing 
those  tranquil  months  passed  under  her  grand- 
mother's roof  on  the  lie  St.  Louis,  she  breaks  off 
abruptly  with  the  remark,  "  I  feel  the  resolution 
of  continuing  my  undertaking  grow  weaker.  The 
miseries  of  my  country  torment  me;  the  loss  of 
my  friends  affects  my  spirits  ;  an  involuntary  sad- 
ness benumbs  my  senses,  darkens  my  imagination, 
and  weighs  heavy  on  my  heart.  France  is  become 
a  vast  amphitheatre  of  carnage,  a  bloody  arena  in 
which  her  own  children  are  tearing  one  another 
to  pieces." 

But  while  the  recollection  of  early  friendships 
rose  from  the  past  "  like  an  old  half-forgotten 
legend,"  these  friends  proved  the  strength  of  their 
attachment  by  coming,  at  imminent  risk  to  them- 
selves, to  visit  the  prisoner.  Now  it  was  the 
faithful  Agatha — poor  fluttered  nun,  driven  from 
her  convent  but  still  roosting  near  it —  that  came 
to  lament  over  her  darling.  Now  it  was  Henri- 
ette,  most  generous  and  devoted  of  souls,  who 
sought  her  old  friend,  not  merely  to  console  but 


282  MADAME  ROLAND. 

to  offer  to  take  her  place.  She,  a  royalist,  had 
seen  nothing  of  Roland's  wife  since  the  Revolu- 
tion had  swept  them  asunder.  But  misfortune  is 
a  great  peace-maker.  Madame  de  Vouglans  was 
a  widow  and  childless  ;  the  prisoner  had  an  old, 
suffering  husband  who  needed  her  care,  and  a 
young,  interesting  daughter.  What  more  simple 
than  to  propose  to  die  for  her,  —  save  a  useful  at 
the  expense  of  a  useless  life  !  Henriette  wanted  to 
exchange  clothes  with  Manon,  and  tried  to  con- 
vince her  that  by  the  time  the  trick  was  discov- 
ered she  could  have  made  good  her  escape,  —  a 
perfectly  feasible  plan,  provided  the  captive  were 
willing.  "  But  they  would  kill  you,  my  good  Hen- 
riette !  "  cried  Madame  Roland.  "  Your  blood 
would  be  upon  my  head  !  Better  suffer  a  thou- 
sand deaths  than  have  to  reproach  myself  with 
yours !"  Tears  and  prayers  were  of  no  avail ;  the 
thing  was  impossible.  She  had  no  illusions  as  to 
her  own  fate,  though  she  often  made  light  of  it  to 
others. 

Heroism  is  very  catching.  Nothing  was  com- 
moner in  the  Revolution  than  this  sublime  disre- 
gard of  life.  The  wave  of  emotion  leaped  so  high 
that  timid  women,  who  in  ordinary  times  would 
hide  from  a  thunder-storm,  were  ready  to  face  the 
most  imminent  perils.  We  have  heard  quite 
enough  of  the  horrors  of  this  French  Revolution  ; 
we  can  never  hear  half  enough  of  the  greatness  it 


IN  OUTLAWRY.  283 

engendered.  The  lofty  deeds  of  antiquity  fade 
beside  these  modern  ones  ;  the  devotion  of  martyrs 
is  more  than  matched  by  that  of  republicans  ;  nor 
does  the  history  of  man  keep  a  higher  record  than 
that  of  Condorcet  serenely  composing  his  work 
"  On  the  Progress  of  the  Human  Mind,"  while  the 
pursuers  were  on  his  track. 

So  Manon  remained  at  Sainte  Pelagie,  and  the 
two  friends  parted  never  to  meet  again.  But  as 
long  as  history  reserves  a  niche  in  her  Pantheon 
for  the  great  French-woman,  let  Henriette  keep 
a  place  beside  her.  Passing  rich,  indeed,  Ma- 
dame Roland  was  in  the  love  of  friends.  Cham- 
pagneux's  constant  visits  had  also  rendered  him 
a  suspect,  and  he  was  by  this  time  himself  a  pris- 
oner. Alarmed  for  Bosc's  safety,  Madame  Ro- 
land entreated  him  not  to  come  so  often,  and  to 
take  greater  precautions  when  he  did  so.  To  his 
care  were  intrusted  the  leaves  that  held  the  im- 
perishable part  of  Madame  Roland's  life  ;  and  he 
took  them  at  the  peril  of  his  own,  keeping  them 
hidden  for  a  time  in  the  hollow  trunk  of  a  tree  in 
the  forest  of  Montmorency.  Proscribed  himself, 
later  on,  a  fugitive  in  the  depth  of  winter,  he 
carried  the  precious  charge  with  him,  and  thus 
rescued  both  her  children,  —  the  offspring  of  her 
body  and  that  of  her  brain. 

What  by  this  time  had  become  of  Buzot  and 
his  comrades,  whom  we  left  enrolled  in  the  com- 


284  MADAME  ROLAND. 

pany  of  Breton  volunteers,  well  provided  with 
fire-locks  and  cartridge-boxes  ?  Madame  Roland 
followed  them  in  thought ;  lived  in  hope  that 
they  had  taken  ship  to  America.  "  Oh,  my 
friends ! "  she  wrote,  "  Heaven  grant  that  you 
may  reach  the  United  States  —  that  last  refuge 
of  liberty  —  in  safety  !  My  hopes  follow  you 
thither,  and  I  entertain  some  hopes  that  you  are 
now  sailing  towards  its  shores.  But,  alas  !  /am 
doomed.  I  shall  never  see  you  more  ! "  Describ- 
ing the  impression  made  on  her  in  youth  by  a 
novice  who  on  taking  the  veil  had  sung  the  cus- 
tomary verse, 

"  Here  have  I  chosen  my  abode,  and  will  establish  it  forever," 

she  now  writes  :  "  I  have  not  forgotten  the  notes 
of  this  little  passage,  but  can  repeat  them  as  ac- 
curately as  if  I  had  heard  them  only  yesterday. 
Good  God  !  with  what  emphasis  I  should  utter 
them  now  in  America !  " 

Alas !  the  little  band  of  outlaws  was  not  on 
the  broad  Atlantic,  sailing  westward.  Far  from 
it.  Would  it,  indeed,  have  been  possible  for 
Buzot  to  leave  the  country  where  the  woman  he 
loved  was  immured  with  no  prospect  but  the 
guillotine  before  her?  He  would  much  have  pre- 
ferred death.  But  they  all  of  them  loved  France 
so  dearly,  it  seemed  as  though  they  could  not 
tear  themselves  from  their  natal  soil.     They  had 


IN  OUTLAWRY.  285 

left  the  brave  Breton  volunteers  to  strike  across 
country  to  Quimper,  under  the  escort  of  six  tried 
guides,  thence  to  take  ship  to  Bordeaux.  Nine- 
teen men  in  all  they  were,  mostly  tall  and  vigo- 
rous, armed  to  the  teeth,  and,  to  be  the  better 
disguised,  clad  in  those  white  smocks  bordered 
with  red  worn  by  common  soldiers  on  the  march. 
Already  the  Departments  had  been  filled  with 
Jacobin  proclamations  against  the  "  traitors," 
*  conspirators,"  "  federalists,"  —  descriptions  of 
their  persons  having  been  sent  to  all  the  Munici- 
palities. Popular  feeling,  with  the  desperate  in- 
stinct of  national  self-preservation,  had  turned 
dead  against  them. 

Buzot,  Barbaroux,  Petion,  Salles,  Louvet, 
Cussy,  Girey-Dupr6,  and  a  young  man  named 
Riouffe,  who  joined  them  from  sheer  sympathy, 
were  among  the  eleven  now  starting  on  this 
memorable  retreat.  Across  desert  moors,  along 
lonely  by-ways,  sinking  knee-deep  in  bogs,  strug- 
gling through  brakes  and  briers,  the  outlawed 
republicans  for  security's  sake  tramped  through  the 
night,  sometimes  beneath  the  quiet  stars,  or  under 
wild  skies  where  the  moon,  flying  before  the  hurry- 
ing rack,  seemed  like  them  to  fly  from  its  hunters. 

Strange  Ulysses-wanderings  these  for  men 
bred  up  to  peaceful  professions,  —  authors,  bar- 
risters, students  of  arts  and  sciences.  Afraid  to 
ask  shelter  at  country  inn  or  cottage,  they  once 


286  MADAME  ROLAND. 

stretched  their  tired  limbs  in  a  hay-loft,  —  to  be 
summoned,  in  the  name  of  the  law,  by  a  patriotic 
villager  at  the  dead  of  night,  while  flickering 
torch-light  cast  its  reflection  now  on  the  Nation- 
al Guards  without,  now  on  these  desperate  men 
within,  determined  dearly  to  sell  their  lives.  A 
curious  colloquy,  recorded  by  Louvet,  then  oc- 
curred between  the  suspected  and  suspecting 
parties. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"  asked  the  Mayor, 
tentatively  ;  to  whom  Barbaroux  replied,  — 

"  We  were  sleeping." 

"  But  why  in  a  hay-loft  ? " 

"  We  should  have  preferred  your  bed,"  quoth 
Louvet  briskly. 

"  And  who  may  you  be,  my  lively  gentleman  ?  " 
persisted  the  Mayor,  whom  Riouffe  answered 
laughingly,— 

"  Why,  a  tired  volunteer,  who  did  not  expect  to 
be  called  so  early." 

More  parley  ensued,  and  while  they  looked  to 
their  fire-locks,  a  more  enterprising  inquirer 
wished  to  know  why  they  carried  such  loads  of 
arms.  "  Because  we  know  that  this  district  is 
infested  by  brigands,"  replied  Buzot,  bent  on  an- 
noying the  Departmental  force,  "  and  we  wished 
they  should  at  least  learn  to  respect  what  they 
dislike."  The  upshot  of  it  was  that  they  all  set 
off  amicably  enough  for  Roternheim,  not  without 


IN  OUTLAWRY.  287 

lurking  misgivings ;  but  the  snoring  citizens  of 
that  quiet  country  town,  not  in  the  mood  for 
catching  rebels  at  such  hours,  suffered  them  to 
leave  its  precincts  in  peace. 

But  oh  the  weariness  of  the  long  march  !  One 
of  them  suffered  tortures  from  gout ;  Barbaroux, 
limping  with  a  sprained  ankle,  leaned  his  heavy- 
weight on  his  companions  ;  Riouffe,  barefoot  and 
blistered,  left  a  bloody  trail  as  he  tripped  on  tip- 
toe to  save  his  grazed  heels  ;  Buzot  plodded  along 
heavily,  "carrying  in  his  heart  such  bitter  griefs," 
as  Louvet  knew  from  u  his  cJiere  Lodoi'ska,"  who 
had  carried  the  solace  of  Buzot's  letters  to  Ma- 
dame Roland,  and  is  called  by  her  an  M  angel  of 
goodness  and  beauty."  LodoYska  whose  heroic 
devotion  to  Louvet  is  so  thrillingly  described  by 
him,  was  even  now  following  closely  in  the  wake 
of  the  outlaws,  risking  arrest  as  suspect,  driving 
mysteriously  it  seemed  to  the  Argus-eyed  offi- 
cials, but  able  to  save  herself  by  tact  and  pres- 
ence of  mind. 

Hunger  had  added  its  pangs  to  the  sufferings 
of  the  wayworn  wanderers.  No  sooner  did  they 
approach  a  human  dwelling  than  shutters  were 
barred,  doors  locked,  and  people  shrank  from 
them  as  though  they  were  plague-stricken.  At 
last,  after  dragging  along  for  thirty-one  hours  at 
a  stretch,  they  reached  the  neighborhood  of 
Quimper,  and  hid  themselves  in  a  woody  brake 


288  MADAME  ROLAND. 

till  nightfall.  By  way  of  climax  to  their  misery, 
they  were  drenched  by  a  thunder-storm,  literally 
bedded  in  water,  and  too  weary  to  rise.  Even 
the  cheerfullest  of  them  —  Girey-Dupre\  Riouffe, 
and  the  lion-hearted  Barbaroux — lost  heart  for 
jesting,  and  had  only  faint  smiles  left.  Petion 
alone  remained  imperturbable,  steeled  against  all 
misadventures. 

But  some  respite  to  their  sufferings  was  at 
hand.  Charitable  friends  hid  them  in  their 
homes.  A  favorable  opportunity  having  offered, 
the  ex-deputies  took  ship  for  Bordeaux,  which 
the  ever-rash  Guadet,  gone  off  by  himself,  had 
depicted  as  devoted  to  the  Girondins.  Alas  !  their 
heaviest  trials  awaited  them  there.  Reaching 
Gascony  at  the  end  of  September,  they  found 
the  Jacobins  masters  of  Bordeaux  and  of  the 
whole  country.  The  capitulation  of  Valenciennes, 
the  troubles  in  La  Vendee,  the  surrender  of  Toulon 
to  the  English,  by  exasperating  the  people  flung 
them  perforce  into  the  arms  of  the  Jacobins,  who 
followed  a  clear  if  terrible  policy  of  their  own. 
A  new  Constitution,  made  under  their  influence, 
had  been  given  to  the  nation,  which  rallied  round 
it  as  its  last  chance  of  union  and  security.  The 
proscribed  deputies,  illegally  turned  out  of  the 
Convention,  were  now  themselves  regarded  as 
illegal  and  unconstitutional ;  and  the  Gironde 
rejected  its  Girondins. 


IN  OUTLAWRY.  289 

Ignorant  of  this  state  of  opinion  at  first,  they 
had  not  taken  the  precaution  to  hide  their  iden- 
tity, but  soon  found  out  their  mistake.  Discov- 
ered at  an  inn  at  Bee  D'Ambez,  they  just  escaped 
falling  into  the  hands  of  the  Jacobins  ;  for  the 
house  had  been  invested,  and,  as  the  report  said, 
their  beds  were  found  to  be  still  warm.  There 
seemed  no  safety  now  but  for  the  little  band  to 
dissolve,  and  so  put  the  hunters  off  the  scent. 
With  sorrowful  hearts  they  bade  each  other  fare- 
well. This  great  blessing  was  vouchsafed  them, 
that  danger  borne  in  common  had  tightened  the 
bonds  of  friendship.  Petion  and  Buzot,  who 
never  left  each  other  "  till  death  did  them  part,'1 
remained  roaming  about  the  Gironde,  now  retired 
beneath  some  friendly  roof,  now  hidden  in  the 
caverns  near  St.  Emilion.  The  others,  in  groups 
of  twos  and  threes,  vanished  along  different  routes, 
mostly  ending  in  the  guillotine. 

Madame  Roland  at  Sainte  Pelagie  was  not  alto- 
gether ignorant  of  these  events.  She  knew  now 
that  the  proscribed  Girondins,  those  who  were 
not  already  imprisoned  in  Paris,  would  never  reach 
America.  This  conviction,  harder  to  her  than 
her  own  impending  fate,  filled  her  with  despair. 
She  resolved  to  commit  suicide.  Several  consid- 
erations urged  her  to  take  this  step.  She  would 
foil  her  executioners  and  escape  the  las£  indig- 
nity of  mounting  the  scaffold.  A  most  powerful 
19 


290  MADAME  ROLAND. 

motive  with  her  was,  that  by  doing  so  she  hoped 
to  secure  her  personal  property  to  Eudora,  which, 
were  she  condemned,  would  be  legally  confiscated. 
Having  come  to  this  conclusion  she  wrote  a  letter 
to  Roland,  asking  him  "  to  forgive  her  for  dispos- 
ing of  a  life  which  should  have  been  devoted  to 
him,  but  that  she  having  now  been  deprived  of 
the  power  of  doing  so,  he  would  lose  nothing  but 
a  shadow." 

Two  months  ago,  the  Citoyenne  Roland  had 
declared  that  she  would  proudly  have  ascended 
the  scaffold  ;  then  the  victim,  still  able  to  speak, 
could  bear  witness  to  the  truth.  Now,  deprived 
of  this  right  also,  she  considered  it  a  degradation 
to  submit.  A  paper  to  which  she  committed  her 
last  thoughts  on  this  occasion  contains  a  striking 
proof  of  her  calmness  and  minute  attention  to  her 
daughter's  interests.  After  giving  a  business-like 
account  of  the  little  property  she  could  claim  in 
virtue  of  marriage  settlements  and  legacies,  she 
directs  that  a  small  sum  of  ready  money  shall  be 
laid  out  in  buying  her  daughter  the  harp  which 
had  hitherto  only  been  hired  for  her ;  "  and  they 
shall  get  it  from  Koliker,"  she  says,  "  an  honest, 
fair-dealing  man,  who  will  perhaps  abate  some- 
thing of  the  hundred  crowns  (£12  10s.)  which  he 
has  asked  for  it  Nobody  can  tell,"  she  added, 
"  the  relief  that  music  affords  in  solitude  and  mis- 
fortune, nor  from  how  many  temptations  it  may 


IN  OUTLAWRY.  291 

be  a  safeguard  in  prosperity.  Let  the  teacher  of 
the  harp  be  kept  a  few  months  longer  ;  by  that 
time  the  dear  little  girl,  by  making  good  use  of 
her  time,  will  know  enough  for  her  own  amuse- 
ment. Her  drawing,  also,  should  by  no  means 
be  neglected.  It  is  an  essential  article  of  educa- 
tion, to  which  Eudora' s  care  and  attention  ought 
to  be  directed."  Taking  leave  of  her  in  a  few 
lines  into  which  all  her  tenderness  is  condensed, 
she  added  that  proud  legacy,  "  Do  what  they  will, 
they  cannot  rob  you  of  my  example ;  and  I  feel, 
and  I  will  venture  to  say,  upon  the  very  brink  of 
the  grave,  that  it  is  a  rich  inheritance." 

The  "  dear  little  girl "  was  not  suffered  to  remain 
long  with  the  kind  family  of  Madame  Creuze"  la 
Touche.  How  many  were  the  good  Samaritans 
sent  to  the  scaffold  in  those  stormful  days  for 
harboring  a  suspect  or  a  suspect's  helpless  offspring  ! 
Blue-eyed  Eudora  must  go  forth  from  the  hospita- 
ble roof,  —  whither  was  not  so  clear.  Poor  little 
black  lamb !  who  would  gather  it  to  the  fold,  with 
that  Girondin  brand  upon  it  ?  Every  school- 
mistress shrank  from  the  charge.  One  at  last 
consented  to  admit  the  gentle  child,  if  for  the 
dreaded  name  of  Roland  another  were  substituted. 
Even  that  did  not  suffice  for  long  in  the  eyes  of 
quaking  citizens  haunted  by  visions  of  the  guillo- 
tine. Eudora,  in  those  months  of  terror,  was 
passed  from  hand  to  hand.      But  her  mother's 


292  MADAME  ROLAND. 

devoted  friends,  to  whom  she  had  bequeathed 
Eudora,  watched  over  her.  She  flourished  in 
secret,  although  deprived  of  every  sou  of  her 
parents'  property ;  and  it  may  as  well  be  added 
here  that  she  developed  into  a  sweet  and  noble 
woman,  such  as  would  have  gladdened  her  mother's 
heart ;  that  she  married  the  son  of  the  worthy 
Champagneux,  and  returned  ultimately  to  the 
solitary  vineyards  of  La  Platiere. 

Could  Madame  Roland  have  foreseen  this,  per- 
haps it  would  have  assuaged  some  of  the  anguish 
which  she  devoured  in  silence.  Serene  though 
she  was  in  the  presence  of  others,  the  woman 
who  attended  her  told  one  of  the  prisoner's  friends 
that  she  mustered  up  all  her  courage  before  them, 
but  that  when  alone  she  would  sometimes  stand 
leaning  against  the  bars  of  her  window  and  weep 
for  hours  together. 

The  idea  of  suicide  was  abandoned  at  the  in- 
stance of  Bosc.  He  succeeded  in  convincing  his 
friend  that  she  owed  it  to  herself  and  her  cause 
to  die  grandly  in  the  face  of  all,  leaving  an  exam- 
ple such  as  must  inevitably  make  its  mark  on  the 
public. 

The  year  1793  was  on  the  wane.  In  the  dis- 
tant Gironde,  where  the  sunny  vintage  was  over, 
Buzot,  still  hidden  in  cellars  or  caves,  was  indulg- 
ing (what  survived  all  shocks  of  fate  with  the 
men  of  that  generation)  the  passion  of  writing 


IN  OUTLAWRY.  293 

Memoirs.  In  pleasure-loving  Paris,  where  the 
theatres  had  never  been  more  crowded  with  ele- 
gantly-clad women,  hair  mostly  dressed  a  la  Titus, 
the  remnant  of  the  Girondins  lingered  in  close 
confinement,  awaiting  their  trial. 

Much  they  still  hoped  of  this  trial.  Madame 
Roland,  also,  who  was  to  be  called  as  a  witness, 
indulged  in  favorable  anticipations.  In  these 
swift  impressionable  times,  how  might  not  opinion 
be  turned  by  the  suasive  tongues  of  the  eloquent 
Gironde  ?  She  herself  would  strike  sympathy 
from  the  stoniest  hearts  by  the  fervor  of  her 
appeal. 

On  the  24th  of  October  the  imprisoned  Giron- 
din  deputies  appeared  before  the  Revolutionary 
Tribunal :  twenty-one  in  all,  for  although  some  of 
the  chiefs  had  vanished  for  the  present,  other  ac- 
cused persons,  not  originally  belonging  to  them, 
had  been  thrown  in  to  make  up  the  orthodox 
number.  Fouquier  Tinville's  act  of  accusation 
contained  an  elaborate  statement  of  all  the  errors 
and  crimes  which  the  Mountain  laid  to  their 
charge,  the  sum  and  substance  of  which  was  that 
they  were  royalists,  federalists,  fomenters  of  civil 
war,  conspirators  against  the  Republic.  Amar 
did  not  blush  to  accuse  Brissot  of  having  con- 
templated the  ruin  of  the  French  colonies  be- 
cause he  had  made  an  attempt  to  emancipate  their 
slaves ;   of  having  provoked  the  assassination  of 


294  MADAME  ROLAND. 

the  patriots  at  the  Champs  de  Mars  because  he 
had  given  the  first  Republican  impulse ;  of  hav- 
ing wished  to  stifle  liberty  because  he  had  declared 
war  against  kings.  The  very  acts  that  most  re- 
dounded to  the  glory  of  the  leader  of  the  Gironde 
were  turned  into  the  engines  of  their  ruin  by  the 
hatred  of  party.  To  what  end,  in  fact,  dwell  on 
a  trial  at  which  their  most  determined  enemies  — 
Pache,  Chaumette,  Hcbert,  and  others  —  appeared 
as  witnesses  against  the  Twenty-one,  a  trial  of 
which  the  judgment  was  a  foregone  conclusion  ; 
nevertheless,  much  to  the  disgust  of  the  Montag- 
nards  and  Municipality,  it  was  prolonged  from  day 
to  day.  Vergniaud,  who  had  promised  his  friends 
to  be  the  last  to  speak,  could  not  contain  his  indig- 
nation at  the  calumnious  evidence  of  a  witness. 
Suddenly  roused,  he  had  one  of  those  inspirations 
of  eloquence  whose  pathos  and  sublimity  had  so 
often  swayed  the  Assembly.  The  audience,  the 
very  jury,  were  moved  sympathetically  ;  that  great 
voice  was  answered  by  tears.  A  black  outlook 
for  the  Jacobins,  this !  They  suddenly  declared 
witnesses  and  legal  forms  to  be  perfectly  unneces- 
sary ;  a  deputation  was  sent  to  the  Convention, 
and  the  latter  with  much  dispatch  empowered  the 
jury  to  cut  a  trial  short  when  they  considered 
themselves  sufficiently  enlightened. 

At   ten  o'clock   on   the   night  of  the  30th  of 
October  the  accused  were  summoned  for  the  last 


IN  OUTLAWRY.  295 

time,  to  learn  that  the  trial  was  at  an  end.  Ma- 
dame Roland  had  not  been  called.  The  jury  unan- 
imously returned  a  verdict  of  guilty,  and  the 
sentence  pronounced  on  the  Twenty-one  was  — 
Death  ! 

The  condemned  Girondins  could  not  repress  a 
thrill  of  indignation,  a  movement  of  wrath.  It 
was  not  so  difficult  to  die,  but  to  die  as  traitors 
to  the  Republic  !  Valaze  stabbed  himself  to  the 
heart,  and  fell  dead.  Lasource,  turning  upon  his 
judges,  cried,  "  I  die  on  the  day  when  the  People 
have  lost  their  reason.  You  will  die  when  they 
recover  it !  "  Brissot's  arms  fell  nerveless  to  his 
side  ;  his  head  sank  forward  ;  he  was  not  thinking 
of  his  own  fate,  but  of  the  wife,  of  the  three  young 
sons,  whom  his  devotion  to  the  public  cause  left 
utterly  destitute.  Fonfrede  flung  his  arms  round 
Ducos,  that  young  martyr  of  friendship  who  had 
scorned  Marat's  mercy,  sobbing,  "  I  have  brought 
you  to  this  !  "  Ducos  answered  quietly,  "  Be  com- 
forted, friend  ;  do  we  not  die  together  ?  "  Verg- 
niaud  was  for  taking  poison  ;  but  there  was  not 
enough  for  all,  so  he  flung  it  from  him  in  con- 
tempt :  he  would  not  be  divided  from  them  in  his 
death. 

As  they  left  the  room  where  Valaze  s  corpse 
lay  stretched  on  the  table,  one  by  one  the  con- 
demned went  up  to  him  and  kissed  him  on  the 
forehead,  saying,  "Till  to-morrow!"     The  pris- 


296  MADAME  ROLAND. 

oners  in  the  Conciergerie,  feverishly  awaiting  the 
verdict,  heard  them  singing  the  Marseillaise  in 
chorus  on  their  approach,  and  recognized  the  sig- 
nal of  doom.  To  whatever  shade  of  political 
opinion  the  prisoners  might  belong,  the  fate  of 
these  men,  still  so  young  in  years,  —  Brissot,  the 
eldest  of  them  being  under  forty,  —  cut  them  to 
the  heart. 

At  midnight  a  funeral  repast  was  laid  out  in 
the  dungeon,  sent  by  an  unknown  friend.  Noth- 
ing had  been  forgotten.  Delicately  prepared 
dishes,  exquisite  wines,  rare  flowers,  were  lavishly 
supplied.  Sitting  there  for  the  last  time,  the 
doomed  Twenty  spent  the  night  together,  —  now 
conversing  with  the  philosophic  calm  of  a  Socrates, 
now,  like  true  children  of  Voltaire  and  Diderot, 
touching  with  brief  lightning  flashes  of  wit  the 
overhanging  cloud  of  death.  Oh  !  do  we  not  seem 
to  see  them  sitting  there,  lit  up  by  bright-burning 
tapers,  passing  the  wine-cup  round,  eyes  bright 
with  life,  still  busily  talking,  singing,  breaking  off 
in  their  songs  to  talk  again  of  the  great  passion 
which  makes  them  one  —  Republican  France! 
Vergniaud,  presiding,  surpasses  himself  in  the 
splendor  of  his  thoughts  ;  the  practical  Gensonne 
has  nothing  at  heart  but  his  country's  future  ; 
leaning  shoulder  to  shoulder,  the  Nisus  and  Eu- 
ryalus  of  the  Revolution  feel  blest  in  their  friend- 
ship ;  Brissot,  graver  than  the  rest,  is  absorbed 


IN  OUTLAWRY.  297 

in  meditation ;  the  republican  priest,  Fauchet, 
speaks  of  that  Last  Supper  seventeen  hundred 
years  ago,  and  of  Christ  on  Calvary ;  and  all  the 
while,  like  the  mummy  at  the  Egyptian  banquets, 
stretched  beside  them  lies  the  cold  corpse  of 
Valaze. 

Hark !  how  quickly  the  clocks  are  striking  the 
successive  hours  of  night,  and  the  tapers  are 
burning  low,  and  the  feeble  light  of  this  last  day 
of  October  falls  through  the  grating,  imparting  a 
wan  look  to  the  flushed  faces  that  have  watched 
through  the  night.  Now  Vergniaud  is  heard  say- 
ing, "Are  we  not  ourselves  the  best  demonstration 
of  immortality  ?  —  we  who  now  are  here?  —  we, 
calm,  serene,  impassive,  beside  the  corpse  of  our 
friend,  in  face  of  our  own  corpses,  quietly  dis- 
cussing, like  philosophers,  the  night  or  the  flash 
of  light  that  will  follow  our  last  breath  ? " 

It  is  striking  ten  ;  the  door  opens  ;  the  execu- 
tioner enters  to  fetch  the  victims. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

AVE   LIBERTAS    MORITURI   TE   SALUTANT! 

Five  death-carts  bore  the  doomed  ones  along,  — 
among  them  Valaz£,  whom  no  further  wrong 
could  touch.  Bare-headed,  with  bound  hands,  and 
in  their  shirt-sleeves,  they  yet  looked  like  con- 
querors as,  dragged  through  the  streets  of  Paris, 
they  chanted  the  Marseillaise.  The  Vive  la  R/- 
publique  of  the  crowd  they  met  with  answering 
shouts  of  Vive  la  Rfynbliqiie.  Then  —  as  one  by 
one  they  ascended  the  scaffold,  as  one  by  one 
their  heads  fell  severed  by  the  swift  stroke  of  its 
knife  —  their  chorus  grew  fainter  and  fainter, 
till  at  last  one  voice  only  remained  singing,  — 

Contre  nous  de  la  tyrannie 
Le  couteau  sanglant  est  leve\ 

Then  it  too  stopped  —  hushed  in  death  was  that 
singing ! 

When  the  Girondins  left  the  Conciergerie  their 
heroine  entered  it.  It  was  the  last  milestone  on 
the  road  of  the  Revolution.  Only  a  fortnight 
before  Marie  Jeanne  Roland  entered  its  precincts, 
Marie  Antoinette  had  quitted  them  for  the  scaf- 
fold ;  so  that  the  woman  who  hated  the  Republic 


AVE  LIBERT  AS!  299 

most  bitterly  was  condemned  almost  simultane- 
ously with  that  other  woman  who  had  the  most 
adored  it.  But  such  was  the  turbid  confusion  of 
the  times  that  the  most  heterogeneous  kind  of 
people  were  mixed  up  together  in  that  foulest 
of  prisons.  Great  nobles  were  cheek  by  jowl 
with  felons  ;  great  ladies  jostled  women  of  the 
streets ;  by  a  freak  of  fate  the  Du  Barry  and  Ro- 
land's wife  slept  under  the  same  roof. 

Acutely  at  first  did  the  disciple  of  Plutarch 
suffer  from  this  proximity  to  the  reprobates  of 
society.  She  was  sickened  in  the  day  by  repul- 
sive scenes  from  whose  sight  she  could  not  es- 
cape ;  she  was  awakened  at  night  by  the  fierce 
quarrels  of  these  unfortunates.  But  —  oh,  mira- 
cle of  human  goodness!  —  ere  long  that  part  of 
the  prison  where  dwelt  Madame  Roland  had  be- 
come an  oasis  of  peace  amid  this  Inferno.  No 
sooner  did  she  appear  in  the  courtyard  than  the 
wrangling  ceased. 

Women  lost  to  shame  felt  ashamed  before  her 
radiant  purity.  To  the  most  needy  she  gave 
what  pecuniary  help  she  could,  spoke  to  all 
words  of  advice,  hope,  or  consolation.  In  walk- 
ing she  was  surrounded  by  those  lost  ones,  who 
clung  to  her  skirts  and  seemed  to  regard  her  as 
a  beneficent  divinity,  while  they  treated  the  once 
all-powerful  mistress  of  Louis  XV.  as  one  of 
themselves.     At  this  page  of  Madame  Roland's 


300  MADAME   ROLAND. 

history  it  is  difficult  to  keep  back  one's  tears, — 
not  from  pity  for  her  sufferings,  but  that  the 
magic  of  goodness  touches  the  deepest  springs 
of  emotion. 

The  record  of  Madame  Roland's  last  days  we 
owe  chiefly  to  Comte  Beugnot,  her  fellow-pris- 
oner at  the  Conciergerie.  He  could  not  help 
acknowledging  the  intrinsic  greatness  of  this 
woman,  against  whom  he  had  entertained  a 
strong  prejudice  as  a  female  politician  and  repub- 
lican. Now  that  he  saw  her  frequently  at  the 
grate  of  the  prison,  where  many  of  its  inmates 
gathered  round  her,  he  listened  to  her  conversa- 
tion in  astonishment.  So  did  Rioufte,  one  of  the 
famous  twelve,  he  who  had  dragged  his  bleeding 
feet  across  the  Landes  of  Brittany,  and  had  since 
then  been  incarcerated.  Months  of  confinement 
had  not  quenched  Madame  Roland's  enthusiasm, 
nor  impaired  the  beauty  of  her  appearance.  Her 
large  dark  eyes  still  flashed  and  softened  with 
every  changing  emotion.  Her  complexion  still 
retained  its  brilliancy.  Comte  Beugnot  says  he 
found  an  ever-fresh  charm  in  listening  to  her, 
quite  as  much  owing  to  her  captivating  manner 
as  to  the  things  she  said.  They  completely  dif- 
fered in  their  politics,  and  the  passion  with  which 
she  defended  her  own  views  gave  him  the  impres- 
sion "  that  she  had  inspired  her  whole  party  with 
that  vehement  partisanship  which  had  helped  not 


AVE  LIBERTAS!  301 

a  little  to  stir  up  hatred  and  set  others  against 
them."  Riouffe  describes  her  conversation  as  a 
happy  blending  of  womanly  charm  with  a  great 
man's  energy. 

But  whatever  the  differences  of  opinion,  every- 
body loved  Madame  Roland,  everybody  desired 
her  acquittal  when  she  was  called  to  appear  be- 
fore her  judges.  Comte  Beugnot,  intrusted  with 
a  message  for  her,  lay  in  wait  till  she  appeared 
in  the  passage  where  she  stood  at  the  grate  until 
she  should  be  called.  She  was  dressed  with 
great  care  that  day,  and  appeared  more  animated 
than  usual.  "  Her  complexion  was  exquisite," 
writes  Beugnot ;  "  a  smile  hovered  round  her 
lips.  She  was  holding  up  the  train  of  her  dress 
with  one  hand,  her  other  one  having  been  seized 
by  a  crowd  of  women  pressing  round  her  to  kiss 
it.  Those  better  acquainted  with  the  fate  await- 
ing her  were  sobbing,  and  commended  her  to 
Providence.  No  one  can  picture  this  scene  un- 
less he  had  seen  it."  But  we  do  see  it ;  we  hear 
Madame  Roland  trying  to  console  the  unhappy 
women,  never  alluding  to  her  own  fate,  but  gently 
imploring  them  henceforth  to  live  together  in 
peace,  in  hope,  and  in  charity.  The  old  jailer, 
who  had  held  his  post  for  thirty  years,  came  to 
open  the  grate  to  her,  and  wept  as  he  did  so. 
She  was  going  to  reply  to  Beugnot's  whispered 
message,  when  two  turnkeys   roughly  called  her 


302  MADAME  ROLAND. 

name.  At  this  cry,  which  would  have  been  terri- 
ble to  any  one  but  her,  she  stopped  to  shake  his 
hand,  saying,  "  Good-by,  Sir ;  let  us  make  our 
peace,  it  is  time."  Raising  her  eyes  to  his  face, 
she  noticed  that  he  kept  back  his  tears  with  diffi- 
culty, but  only  added,  "  Be  brave  ! " 

She  vanished  down  the  dark  passage  to  appear 
before  Fouquier  Tinville's  judgment  bar.  Sev- 
eral persons  were  sitting  round  a  table  for  the 
purpose  apparently  of  taking  down  the  proceed- 
ings, but  they  only  sat  and  stared.  There  was  a 
constant  coming  and  going  of  patriots.  David 
interrogated  the  accused  ;  but  whenever  his  ques- 
tions did  not  meet  with  the  approval  of  Fouquier 
Tinville,  the  terrible  public  prosecutor,  he  altered 
them  and  put  them  afresh.  The  principal  charge 
in  the  indictment  against  Madame  Roland  con- 
sisted in  the  relations  she  had  entertained  with 
the  Girondins,  condemned  for  traitorous  designs 
against  the  unity  and  indivisibility  of  the  Repub- 
lic. The  questions  addressed  to  her  reached 
back  to  a  period  long  anterior  to  1789  (date  of 
the  Revolution).  She  was  clear,  explicit,  lumi- 
nous in  her  answers.  Nothing  could  be  more  to 
her  taste  than  to  enter  fully  into  the  whole  course 
of  her  husband's  and  her  own  conduct  from  the 
beginning.  Why  could  she  not  have  produced 
some  of  those  letters  addressed  to  Bosc  and  Ban- 
cal   des    Issarts    during    1789,    1790,   and    1791, 


AVE  LIBERTAS!  303 

which  bore  such  unmistakable  witness  to  her 
revolutionary  enthusiasm  ? 

The  purpose  of  the  tribunal  was  not  served  by 
these  eloquent  replies  of  the  accused,  which  need- 
lessly prolonged  a  trial  of  which  the  result  could 
not  be  doubtful.  She  was  told,  roughly  enough, 
that  she  was  not  showing  off  her  wit  at  the  Hotel 
of  the  Interior,  and  had  better  confine  herself  in 
her  answers  to  a  plain  Yes  or  No. 

Let  us  briefly  recapitulate  some  of  the  leading 
points,  which  show  the  nature  of  these  pro- 
ceedings. 

Question.  —  Was  it  known  to  you  that  Roland,  before  he 
entered  into  the  Administration,  belonged  to  the  Committee 
of  Correspondence  of  the  Jacobins  ? 

Answer. —  Yes. 

Q.  —  Was  it  not  you  who  took  upon  you  to  compose  the 
letters  it  was  his  duty  to  draw  up  for  the  Committee  ? 

A.  —  My  husband  never  borrowed  my  thoughts,  although 
he  may  sometimes  have  employed  my  pen. 

Q.  —  Were  you  not  acquainted  with  the  office  for  the 
Formation  of  Public  Opinion,  established  by  Roland  to 
corrupt  the  Departments  ;  to  bring  to  Paris  a  Departmental 
force  ;  to  tear  the  Republic  to  pieces,  according  to  the  plans 
of  a  liberticide  faction,  etc.;  and  was  it  not  you  who  con- 
ducted the  business  of  that  office  ? 

A.  —  Roland  established  no  office  under  that  denomina- 
tion, and  I  conducted  the  business  of  none.  After  the 
decree,  passed  at  the  latter  end  of  August,  ordering  him  to 
disseminate  useful  writings,  he  assigned  to  some  of  his 
clerks  the  care  of  forwarding  them,  exerting  himself  to  the 
utmost  in  the  execution  of  a  law  tending  to  diffuse  the 


304  MADAME  ROLAND. 

knowledge  and  love  of  the  Revolution.  This  he  called 
the  Patriotic  Correspondence j  and  as  to  his  own  writings, 
instead  of  promoting  discord,  they  all  breathed  a  desire  to 
concur  in  the  maintenance  of  order  and  of  peace. 

It  was  observed  at  this  point  to  Madame  Roland 
that  it  was  in  vain  for  her  to  attempt  to  disguise 
the  truth.  That  her  endeavors  to  justify  Roland 
were  ineffectual,  fatal  experience  having  only  too 
well  shown  the  mischief  that  perfidious  Minister 
had  done  by  aspersing  the  most  faithful  represen- 
tatives of  the  people,  and  by  exciting  the  Depart- 
ments to  take  up  arms  against  Paris. 

The  accused,  in  answer  to  the  injurious  impu- 
tations upon  Roland,  observed  that  she  had  only 
two  facts  to  oppose,  —  firstly  his  writings,  which 
all  contained  the  soundest  principles  of  morality 
and  politics ;  secondly,  his  forwarding  all  those 
printed  by  order  of  the  National  Convention,  even 
the  speeches  of  the  members  of  that  Assembly, 
who  passed  for  the  most  violent  in  opposition. 

Q.  —  Do  you  know  at  what  time  Roland  left  Paris,  and 
where  he  may  be  ? 

A.  —  Whether  I  do  or  not,  is  what  I  neither  ought  nor 
choose  to  tell. 

It  was  here  remarked  to  the  accused  that  her 
obstinacy  in  disguising  the  truth  proved  that  she 
thought  Roland  guilty ;  that  she  was  setting  her- 
self in  open  rebellion  against  the  law.    The  public 


AVE  LIBERTAS!  305 

prosecutor,  Fouquier  Tinville,  accompanied  his 
examination  with  such  insulting  epithets,  and  put 
questions  so  offensive  to  her  honor,  that  she,  who 
could  calmly  meet  death,  felt  unable  to  repress 
her  tears. 

But  she  would  not  be  browbeaten.  Turning 
round  to  the  clerk,  she  cried,  "  Take  up  your  pen 
and  write ! "  Then  she  continued  :  "  A  person 
accused  is  answerable  for  his  own  actions,  but 
not  for  those  of  others.  If  during  more  than  four 
months  Roland  had  not  solicited  in  vain  the  pass- 
ing of  his  accounts,  he  would  not  now  be  obliged 
to  absent  himself,  nor  should  I,  supposing  me  to 
be  acquainted  with  it,  be  obliged  to  make  a  secret 
of  his  place  of  residence.  I  know  of  no  law 
which  requires  me  to  betray  the  dearest  senti- 
ments of  nature." 

Here  Fouquier  Tinville  exclaimed,  in  a  rage, 
that  there  was  no  end  to  her  loquacity,  and  the 
examination  was  closed. 

Among  the  witnesses  called,  the  one  whose 
testimony  told  most  strongly  against  the  accused, 
was  that  identical  Mademoiselle  Mignot,  Eudora's 
governess,  whose  old  age  Madame  Roland  had 
wished  to  provide  for,  and  to  whom  she  was  wont 
to  give  a  thousand  livres  a  month  to  expend  with 
Eudora  on  charity.  The  cowardly  old  creature, 
to  insure  against  becoming  suspected  herself, 
made  a  few  vague  statements  to  the  effect  that 


306  MADAME  ROLAND. 

the  Rolands  had  shown  much  tranquillity  at  the 
approach  of  a  civil  war,  and  that  Madame  Roland, 
on  being  informed  by  Brissot  of  the  capture  of 
Lille,  had  replied,  "  I  know  the  good  news."  The 
two  other  witnesses  were  Lecoq  the  man-servant, 
and  Fleury  the  cook.  They  were  both  so  deeply 
attached  to  their  mistress  that  their  one  wish 
was  to  share  her  fate.  Lecoq  succeeded,  but  the 
good  Fleury  was  so  distracted  by  grief  that  she 
was  dismissed  from  the  interrogatory  as  not  in 
her  right  senses. 

Chauveau-Lagarde  was  ambitious  of  the  honor 
of  pleading  the  cause  of  the  great  citoyenne.  He 
went  several  times  to  see  her,  and  on  the  8th  of 
November,  1793,  came  to  discuss  the  line  of  de- 
fence he  would  take.  Vain  measures,  in  which 
neither  placed  any  faith ;  for  when  he  was  about 
to  take  his  leave,  Madame  Roland,  who  had  been 
very  silent  all  along,  rose  suddenly,  and  with  an 
air  of  deep  feeling  took  a  ring  from  her  finger 
and  presented  it  to  him.  "  Madame,"  cried  the 
advocate,  much  moved,  "we  shall  meet  again  to- 
morrow after  the  trial."  "  To-morrow  I  shall  have 
ceased  to  be,"  she  answered.  "  I  value  your 
counsel,  but  it  might  prove  fatal  to  you ;  you 
would  ruin  yourself  without  saving  me.  Let  me 
not  have  the  sorrow  of  having  caused  the  death 
of  a  good  man  !  " 

She  was  not  mistaken.     The  proceedings  were 


AVE  LIBERTAS!  307 

again  nipped  in  the  bud  by  the  jury  declaring 
themselves  sufficiently  enlightened,  —  for  most 
of  these  political  trials  were  only  a  parody  of  jus- 
tice. The  accused  was  condemned  to  death  as 
guilty  of  traitorous  relations  with  the  conspirators 
of  Caen,  as  proved  by  the  correspondence  seized 
at  the  house  of  Lauze  Duperret. 

Between  the  sentence  and  its  execution  the 
Revolution  suffered  no  pause.  That  night  of  the 
8th,  as  Madame  Roland  had  foreboded,  was  des- 
tined to  be  her  last.  It  was  not  given  to  her,  as 
to  the  departed  Twenty-one,  to  spend  it  in  a  kind 
of  delirium  of  friendship  and  patriotism. 

Madame  Roland  heard  herself  sentenced  to 
death  with  perfect  equanimity,  saying  proudly  to 
her  judges :  "  You  consider  me  worthy  to  share 
the  fate  of  the  great  men  whom  you  have  assassi- 
nated. I  shall  try  to  carry  to  the  scaffold  the 
courage  they  have  shown."  But  in  the  Concier- 
gerie  there  was  mourning  and  lamentation  on  that 
9th  of  November,  1793,  when  the  wife  of  Roland, 
embracing  all  the  prisoners  in  her  room,  bade 
them  a  last  farewell.  To  one  she  would  say, 
"  How  now,  Reboul,  you  weep  ?  What  weakness  ! " 
To  another,  "  Nay,  friend,  am  I  not  going  to  die 
for  my  country  and  liberty  ?  Is  it  not  what  we 
have  always  wished  ?  " 

In  the  dusk  of  the  short  November  day,  beneath 
the  chill  gray  sky,  the  death-carts  were  bearing 


308  MADAME  ROLAND. 

their  customary  load  of  victims  to  the  Place  de  la 
Revolution.  Sullen,  half-brutalized  crowds  —  to 
whom  dead  bodies  were  cast  instead  of  bread  — 
followed  with  that  craving  for  strong  sensations 
with  which  they  had  been  accustomed  to  watch 
the  racking  of  criminals.  It  was  the  same  popu- 
lace after  all,  inured  to  ferocity  through  the  an- 
cient regime,  with  its  Bastile,  its  lettres  de  cachet, 
its  brutal  punishments  ;  the  same  populace  for 
whose  wretched  plight  the  youthful  Manon  had 
felt  such  a  pathetic  blending  of  contempt  and 
loving  pity. 

All  her  life  she  had  loved  this  people,  even  with 
the  love  of  a  mother  yearning  for  her  first-born. 
All  her  life  she  had  been  ready  to  shed  her  blood 
for  it,  in  the  conviction  that  a  new  generation 
would  arise  which  should  live  to  enjoy  the  freedom 
for  which  she  was  content  to  perish.  That  con- 
viction made  her  passage  to  the  scaffold  a  tri- 
umphal path,  and  invested  her,  as  she  stood  in 
the  death-cart,  with  a  splendor  as  of  victory.  Like 
"a  Star  above  the  Storm"  the  beautiful  woman, 
serenely  radiant,  in  pure  white  raiment,  with  long 
dark  locks  falling  in  clusters  to  her  girdle,  fared 
through  the  streets  of  the  blood-stained  city,  an 
embodiment  of  all  that  was  highest  and  purest  in 
the  Revolution  whose  star  was  now  quenched  in 
the  weltering  storm.  By  the  Quay  de  la  Megis- 
serie,  close  to  the  Pont  Neuf,  they  passed,  opposite 


AVE  LIBERT  AS!  309 

the  house  where  Manon  Roland  first  saw  the  light, 
where  the  young  republican  had  envied  the  great- 
ness of  Rome,  she  who  to-day  was  meeting  her 
doom  like  the  greatest  of  the  Romans.  Did  the 
vision  of  her  past  life  rise  before  her  minds  eye, 
as  they  say  it  does  before  that  of  a  drowning 
man's,  or  did  she  see  the  phantom  Twenty-one 
beckon  her  along  the  road  they  had  lately  gone  ? 
She  was  proud  to  follow  them,  carrying  to  the 
scaffold  a  courage  as  great  as  theirs. 

A  courage  greater  than  theirs  in  reality  ;  for 
she  was  not  sustained  by  that  love  of  comrades 
mutually  encouraging  each  other  with  their  song. 
In  the  cart  beside  her  cowered  the  abject  figure 
of  an  old  man  whose  teeth  chattered  with  terror. 
It  was  Lamarche,  a  forger  of  assignats.  She 
tried  to  cheer  him  up,  and  there  was  a  sweet 
gayety  in  her  words  which  at  times  called  a  feeble 
smile  to  his  lips.  At  last  they  reached  their  des- 
tination. Who  can  tell  what  vistas  of  eternity  had 
opened  out  to  her  on  her  way  thither  ?  Report  says 
that  at  the  foot  of  the  guillotine  she  asked  for 
pen  and  paper  "  to  write  the  strange  thoughts 
that  were  rising  in  her."  The  request  was  not 
granted ;  the  strange  thoughts  went  down  with 
her  to  the  silence  of  the  grave. 

Yet  another  request  she  proffered.  The  scaffold, 
too,  had  its  etiquette,  and  ladies  were  privileged 
to  take  precedence  of  men  in  death.     The  brave 


3IO  MADAME  ROLAND. 

woman,  wishing  to  spare  her  companion  the  hor- 
ror of  seeing  her  blood  spilt,  asked  the  executioner 
to  let  him  go  first.  Samson  demurred,  it  being 
contrary  to  custom.  But  when  she  said  to  him, 
with  a  smile,  "  Come,  you  cannot  refuse  the  last 
request  of  a  lady,"  he  succumbed. 

She  waited  calmly  ;  and  with  her  wonted  quick- 
ness of  step  she  mounted  the  short  steep  ladder 
leading  from  the  cart  to  the  platform  of  the  scaf- 
fold. Then,  her  shining  eyes  turned  to  the  colos- 
sal statue  of  Liberty  lately  erected  near  it,  she 
said,  bowing  to  the  goddess  of  her  worship, 
"O  Liberty!  what  crimes  are  committed  in  thy 
name ! " 

Swiftly  the  axe  clanked  down  ;  swiftly  the  he- 
roic heart  ceased  to  beat.  It  had  not  once  quick- 
ened with  fear.  A  witness,  who  daily  haunted 
the  place  of  execution,  has  borne  strange  testimony 
to  Madame  Roland's  Spartan  courage.  When  her 
head  was  severed  from  her  body,  he  saw  two  enor- 
mous jets  of  blood  thrown  up  from  her  mutilated 
trunk,  —  an  exceptional  fact,  for  habitually  only  a 
few  scant  drops  oozed  slowly  from  the  veins, 
whose  blood  had  all  been  driven  to  the  heart 
by  apprehension. 


The  wife  of  Roland  had  said  that  he  would  not 
survive  her.     She  was  not  mistaken.     The  news 


AVE  LIBERTAS!  311 

of  her  execution  determined  him  to  follow  her. 
But  how  ?  He  intended  at  first  to  force  his  way 
to  the  Convention,  and  to  make  his  voice  heard 
of  its  Representatives  before  he  too  took  the  way 
to  the  scaffold  which  his  great  wife  had  trodden 
before  him.  But  the  difficulty  of  carrying  out 
this  scheme  made  him  prefer  the  simpler  course 
of  taking  his  own  life,  by  which  he  also  mistakenly 
hoped  to  secure  his  fortune  to  his  daughter.  The 
good  ladies  who  had  so  bravely  sheltered  him  all 
this  time,  finding  they  could  not  shake  his  purpose, 
evinced  a  truly  noble  friendship  by  doing  all  in 
their  power  to  assist  him  in  his  undertaking.  In 
the  evening  of  the  15th  of  November  he  bade 
them  a  last  farewell ;  then,  in  the  gloaming,  with 
face  set  Paris-ward,  he  rapidly  walked  along,  with 
the  dead  leaves  crackling  under  his  feet,  and  hopes 
as  dead  in  his  heart.  What  his  hand  had  found 
to  do  he  had  always  done  resolutely  ;  when  the 
thing  was  to  take  his  life,  he  was  no  less  resolute. 
Cato  could  not  have  run  himself  more  calmly 
through  the  body  than  this  Frenchman ;  and 
those  who  on  the  following  morning  found  the 
austere  old  man  leaning  against  a  tree  in  M.  Nor- 
mand's  avenue,  surmised  him  to  be  asleep  from  his 
attitude.     On  his  person  was  this  writing  :  — 

"  Whoever  thou  art  that  findest  me  lying  here,  respect 
my  remains.  They  are  those  of  a  man  who  devoted  his 
life  to  being  useful,  and  who  has  died  as  he  lived,  virtuous 


312  MADAME  ROLAND. 

and  honest.  .  .  .  Not  fear,  but  indignation,  made  me  quit 
my  retreat  on  learning  that  my  wife  had  been  murdered. 
I  did  not  choose  to  remain  longer  in  a  land  polluted  with 
crimes." 

There  lived  yet  another  man  on  earth  whose 
fate  was  indissolubly  linked  with  the  departed 
heroine.  Buzot — who  in  those  terrible  months 
of  the  Red  Terror  had  been  dragging  from  hiding- 
place  to  hiding-place,  in  company  with  Petion 
and  Barbaroux,  often  exposed  to  all  the  inclemency 
of  winter,  or  crouched  half-starved  at  the  bottom 
of  caverns  and  old  wells  —  was  at  this  time  roam- 
ing along  the  stormy  coves  and  cliffs  of  the  West- 
ern coast,  seeking  an  uncertain  refuge.  When 
at  last  the  news  of  Madame  Roland's  execution 
reached  the  unfortunate  Girondin,  his  despair  bor- 
dered on  frenzy.  It  took  him  days  to  recover  his 
right  senses.  After  this  calamity  were  probably 
written  those  moving  lines  :  — 

"  I  have  done  !  My  heart  gives  way.  O  God  !  what  re- 
mains still  to  be  suffered  ?  What  remains  there  of  myself  ? 
.  .  .  Vainly  do  I  seek  the  objects  that  made  life  dear  to 
me.  Nothing  is  left  but  the  void  of  solitude  and  despair. 
I  can  no  longer  claim  a  heart  which  reciprocated  my  tender 
attachment,  and  revived  my  life  with  its  gentle  flame.  All 
is  lost,  forever  lost.  Terrible  words,  which  plunge  me  into 
nothingness  ! " 

Buzot,  however,  went  on  living  as  though  the 
parting  words  of  her  he  loved  could  have  reached 


AVE  LIBERTAS!  313 

him,  which  was  almost  an  impossibility.  "  You 
whom  I  dare  not  name,"  she  had  said,  "  you  who 
never  lapsed  from  virtue,  despite  the  most  terri- 
ble of  passions,  will  you  grieve  that  I  precede 
you  to  those  realms  where  we  may  love  each 
other  without  crime  ?  There  will  cease  all  fatal 
prejudices,  all  arbitrary  distinctions,  all  evil  pas- 
sions, tyranny  of  every  kind.  I  will  rest  and 
await  you  ! "  She  bade  him  not  to  follow  her, 
but  live,  if  so  he  might  still  serve  the  cause  of 
liberty,  but  to  seek  death  voluntarily  rather  than 
take  it  from  a  mercenary  hand.  She  would  not 
bid  him  farewell.  "  From  you  alone  I  part  not. 
To  leave  life  is  to  draw  closer  together." 

So  the  unhappy  Buzot  continued  leading  his 
precarious  life,  "  often  without  bread,  without 
food  of  any  kind,  without  clothes  or  money,"  only 
sustained  by  the  hope  of  some  day  "  avenging 
his  friends  and  his  country's  liberty."  But  he 
was  not  destined  to  see  the  fall  of  Robespierre, 
though  it  followed  close  on  his  own  death,  for  he 
and  his  two  companions  survived  till  July,  1794. 
Forced  to  leave  a  kind-hearted  barber's  shelter 
at  St.  Emilion,  owing  to  the  increased  vigilance 
of  commissioners  sent  by  the  Committee  of  Pub- 
lic Safety,  they  went  forth  once  more.  Mistaking 
a  great  crowd  of  harmless  villagers  for  Jacobin 
troops  in  pursuit  of  them,  they  plunged  into  a 
pine-wood.     Barbaroux,  in  trying  to  shoot  him- 


314  MADAME  ROLAND. 

self,  shattered  his  jaw,  was  discovered,  taken  to 
Bordeaux,  and  executed.  Buzot  and  Petion  es- 
caped. But  two  days  afterwards  their  bodies 
were  found  in  a  corn-field,  half-eaten  by  wolves. 

So  perished  the  founders  of  the  Republic,  the 
preachers  of  the  anti-monarchical  crusade,  and 
the  men  whose  orator  had  put  their  principle  into 
a  nut-shell  when  he  said,  "  You  think  to  found 
the  Revolution  by  Terror  ;  I  was  fain  to  see  her 
established  through  Love."  So  perished  she 
who  was  the  soul  of  the  Gironde,  its  highest  in- 
spiration, its  undying  glory ;  who,  sooner  than 
make  a  truce  with  murder,  led  her  party  to  mar- 
tyrdom, —  for  were  not  those  the  true  martyrs  of 
liberty  who  refused  to  turn  despots  for  her  sake  ? 
They  died  like  martyrs,  too,  scorning  death  for 
that  which  transcends  death,  passing  away  with 
that  smile  on  their  lips,  that  rapture  in  their 
hearts,  which  those  who  sacrifice  themselves  for 
a  great  idea  bequeath  as  the  most  precious  of 
legacies.  We  may  say  that  none  of  those  who 
had  sent  the  Girondins  to  the  scaffold  ascended 
it  in  their  turn  with  the  same  spiritual  exal- 
tation. 

Yes  ;  they  all  followed,  those  who  had  sent  or 
who  had  suffered  them  to  be  sent  there.  It  was 
the  inevitable  fatality  of  their  action.  The  Na- 
tional Convention   was    the   corner-stone   of  the 


AVE  LIBERTAS!  315 

new  State,  the  visible  expression  of  the  Sover- 
eignty of  the  people  ;  and  to  violate  it  was  to 
proclaim  the  Revolution  en  permanence,  to  wrest 
the  government  from  the  legally-constituted  au- 
thorities of  the  Republic,  and  leave  it  at  the 
mercy  of  every  fresh  shock  of  insurrection. 

Vergniaud,  seeing  the  irreconcilable  breach  of 
parties,  had  uttered  the  sublime  cry,  "Fling  us 
into  the  abyss  !  "  and  they  were  flung.  But  the 
abyss  did  not  close.  Nay,  it  widened  and 
widened,  though  batch  after  batch  of  the  revolu- 
tionary leaders  were  thrown  in  without  truce  or 
mercy.  Blood  still  called  unto  blood,  and  victims 
entailed  ever  fresh  victims  by  the  inextricable 
mesh  of  circumstance. 

All  the  offspring  of  the  Revolution,  the  noble 
and  ignoble,  the  fairest  and  foulest,  followed  in 
turn.  The  anarchic  Hebertists,  who  had  grown 
bloated  on  the  blood-money  of  the  condemned, 
were  succeeded  by  Camille  Desmoulins  and  the 
Titanic  Danton.  Revolters  now  revolted  against 
the  Terror,  clamoring  for  a  Committee  of  Mercy. 
These  clamors  were  silenced  by  the  guillotine ; 
but  their  overthrow  shook  the  foundation  of  the 
Republic.  Still  there  stood  its  strongest  pillar, 
the  inexorable  Robespierre !  What  ultimate 
plans  of  government  he  nourished  we  shall  never 
know.  Cut  off  in  the  middle  of  his  career,  this 
man — who  as  a   young  judge   had  resigned  his 


316  MADAME  ROLAND. 

post  from  remorse  at  having  condemned  a  mur- 
derer to  death,  and  who  not  many  years  after- 
wards devised  the  Law  of  Prairial,  the  deadly 
instrument  of  the  Terror  by  which  one  thousand 
three  hundred  and  fifty-six  victims  perished  from 
March  to  July,  1794  —  must  now  always  remain 
one  of  the  enigmas  of  history.  If,  as  is  assumed, 
he  was  fain  to  kill  the  Terror  by  the  Terror, 
to  fill  up  the  abyss  by  dead  bodies,  and  so  cross 
over  this  bridge  of  corpses  into  the  promised  land 
of  a  reorganized  society,  his  plan  was  the  most 
horrible  failure.  And  it  is  well  that  it  was  so. 
Better  that  the  Republic  perished  than  that  it 
should  flourish  on  such  a  basis.  Robespierre 
himself  fell  into  the  abyss,  hurled  by  the  Revo- 
lution whose  riddle  he  had  failed  to  solve,  and 
after  him  came  the  great  Revolution  herself. 

But  though  the  Republic  perished,  the  con- 
quests of  the  Revolution  were  imperishable.  Its 
proclamation  of  the  equal,  natural,  and  inalienable 
rights  of  man  have  modified  the  political  and 
social  life  of  Europe.  Its  many  great  and  vital 
reforms  in  the  administration  of  justice,  in  the 
distribution  of  land,  in  the  condition  of  the  peas- 
ant, wrought  the  most  beneficent  changes  in  the 
lot  of  the  people.  If  the  humanitarian  principles 
to  which  it  gave  birth  were  baptized  in  blood, 
we  must  remember  that  there  has  never  yet 
in  the  world's  history  been  a   fresh  incarnation 


AVE  LIBERTAS!  317 

of  the  idea  without  violent  convulsions.  The 
passage  from  a  state  of  brutish  degradation,  cor- 
ruption, and  misery  to  freedom  could  not  be  ac- 
complished without  a  mortal  struggle.  But  as 
the  earthquake  which  lays  cities  in  ruins,  also 
lifts  to  the  surface  of  the  ocean  beautiful  islands, 
which  presently  a  luxuriant  vegetation  will  clothe, 
and  where  fresh  young  life  will  teem,  so  this 
great  social  upheaval,  while  destructive  of  much 
good  as  well  as  evil,  raised  a  new  social  foun- 
dation for  future  generations  to  build  on  and 
complete. 

Not  only  are  the  conquests  of  the  Revolution 
imperishable,  but  the  examples  of  heroism  left  by 
many  of  its  children  are  among  its  priceless  be- 
quests. Among  these  examples  we  know  of 
none  greater  than  that  given  by  Madame  Roland 
in  her  life  and  death.  Once,  in  a  moment  of  dis- 
couragement while  a  prisoner,  seeing  in  what  her 
devotion  to  liberty  had  ended,  she  asked,  "  Was 
it  worth  while  to  have  been  born  for  this?" 
Yes !  a  thousand  times  yes !  answers  history. 
For  in  the  long,  painful  process  of  education 
through  which  humanity  is  slowly  advancing 
towards  higher  phases  of  development,  the  best 
of  systems  must  remain  waste  sheets  of  paper 
but  for  the  lives  of  noble  men  and  women  capa- 
ble of  transmuting  abstractions  into  realities,  — 
lives  that  shall  illumine  the  path  where  others 


318  MADAME  ROLAND. 

are  groping,  and  kindle  the  moral  energies  of 
men  ;  lives  such  as  Madame  Roland's,  stirring 
her  sex  to  a  generous  emulation,  handing  on, 
as  she  falls,  the  sacred  tradition  of  heroes  and 
martyrs ! 


University  Press :  John  Wilson  &  Son,  Cambridge. 


famous  aEomen  Series 


ELIZABETH    FRY 

By  Mrs.  E.  R.  PITMAN. 

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"In  the  records  of  famous  women  there  are  few  more  noble  examples  of 
Christian  womanhood  and  philanthropic  enthusiasm  than  the  life  of  Elizabeth 
Fry  presents.  Her  character  was  beautifully  rounded  and  complete,  and  if  she 
had  not  won  fame  through  her  public  benefactions,  she  would  have  been  no  less 
esteemed  and  remembered  by  all  who  knew  her  because  of  her  domestic  virtues, 
hei- sweet  womanly  charms,  and  the  wisdom,  purity,  and  love  which  marked  her 
conduct  as  wife,  mother,  and  friend.  She  came  of  that  sound  old  Quaker  stock 
which  has  bred  so  many  eminent  men  and  women.  The  time  came  when  her 
home  functions  could  no  longer  satisfy  the  yearnings  of  a  heart  filled  with  the 
tenderest  pity  for  all  who  suffered  ;  and  her  work  was  not  far  to  seek.  The  prisons 
of  England,  nay,  of  all  Europe,  were  in  a  deplorable  condition.  In  Newgate, 
dirt,  disease,  starvation,  depravity,  drunkenness,  &c,  prevailed.  All  who  sur- 
veyed the  situation  regarded  it  as  hopeless ;  all  but  Mrs.  Fry.  She  saw  here  the 
opening  she  had  been  awaiting.  Into  this  seething  mass  she  bravely  entered, 
Bible  in  hand,  and  love  and  pity  in  her  eyes  and  upon  her  lips.  If  any  one 
should  ask  which  of  all  the  famous  women  recorded  in  this  series  did  the  most 
practical  good  in  her  day  and  generation,  the  answer  must  be,  Elizabeth  Fry."  — 
New  York  Tribune. 

"  Mrs.  Pitman  has  written  a  very  interesting  and  appreciative  sketch  of  the 
life,  character,  and  eminent  services  in  the  causes  of  humanity  of  one  of  Eng- 
land's most  famous  philanthropists.  She  was  known  as  the  prison  philanthropist, 
and  probably  no  laborer  in  the  cause  of  prison  reform  ever  won  a  larger  share  of 
success,  and  certainly  none  ever  received  a  larger  meed  of  reverential  love.  No 
one  can  read  this  volume  without  feelings  of  admiration  for  the  noble  woman  who 
devoted  her  life  to  befriend  sinful  and  suffering  humanity."  —  Chicago  Evening 
Journal. 

"  The  story  of  her  splendid  and  successful  philanthropy  is  admirably  told  by 
her  biographer,  and  every  reader  should  find  in  the  tale  a  breath  of  inspiration. 
Not  every  woman  can  become  an  Elizabeth  Fry,  but  no  one  can  fail  to  be  im- 
pressed with  the  thought  that  no  woman,  however  great  her  talent  and  ambition, 
can  fail  to  find  opportunity  to  do  a  noble  work  in  life  without  neglecting  her  own 
feminine  duties,  without  ceasing  to  dignify  all  the  distinctive  virtues  of  her  sext 
without  fretting  and  crying  aloud  over  the  restrictions  placed  on  woman's  field  of 

work."  —Eclectic  Monthly. 

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FAMOUS    WOMEN    SERIES. 

THE  COUNTESS  OF  ALBANY. 

BY    VERNON    LEE. 
One  volume.    16mo.     Cloth.     Price  91.00. 


"  It  is  no  disparagement  to  the  many  excellent  previous  sketches  to  say  that 
'The  Countess  of  Albany,'  by  Vernon  Lee,  is  decidedly  the  cleverest  of  the  series 
of  biographies  of '  Famous  Women,'  published  in  this  country  by  Roberts  Brothers, 
Boston.  In  the  present  instance  there  is  a  freer  subject,  a  little  farther  removed 
from  contemporary  events,  and  sufficiently  out  of  the  way  of  prejudice  to  admit  of 
a  lucid  handling.  Moreover,  there  is  a  trained  hand  at  the  work,  and  a  mind 
not  only  familiar  with  and  in  sympathy  with  the  character  under  discussion,  but 
also  at  home  with  the  ruling  forces  of  the  eighteenth  century,  which  were  the  forces 
that  made  the  Countess  of  Albany  what  she  was.  The  biography  is  really  dual,  trac- 
ing the  life  of  Alfieri,  for  twenty-five  years  the  heart  and  soul  companion  of  the 
Countess,  quite  as  carefully  as  U  traces  that  of  the  fixed  subject  of  the  sketch."  — 
Philadelphia  Times. 

"  To  be  unable  altogether  to  acquiesce  in  Vernon  Lee's  portrait  of  Louise  of 
Stolberg  does  not  militate  against  our  sense  of  the  excellence  of  her  work.  Her 
pictures  of  eighteenth-century  Italy  are  definite  and  brilliant.  They  are  instinct 
with  a  quality  that  is  akin  to  magic."  —  London  Academy. 

"  In  the  records  of  famous  women  preserved  in  the  interesting  series  which 
has  been  devoted  to  such  noble  characters  as  Margaret  Fuller,  Elizabeth  Fry,  and 
George  Eliot,  the  life  of  the  Countess  of  Albany  holds  a  unique  place.  Louise  of 
Albany,  or  Louise  R.,  as  she  liked  to  sign  herself,  possessed  a  character  famed, 
not  for  domestic  virtues,  nor  even  for  peculiar  wisdom  and  creative  power,  but 
rather  notorious  for  an  easy-going  indifference  to  conventionality  and  a  worldly 
wisdom  and  cynicism.  Her  life,  which  is  a  singular  exponent  of  the  false  ideas 
prevalent  upon  the  subject  of  love  and  marriage  in  the  eighteenth  century,  is  told 
by  Vernon  Lee  in  a  vivid  and  discriminating  manner.  The  biography  is  one  of 
the  most  fascinating,  if  the  most  sorrowful,  of  the  series."  —  Boston  Journal. 

u  She  is  the  first  really  historical  character  who  has  appeared  on  the  literary 
horizon  of  this  particular  series,  her  predecessors  having  been  limited  to  purely 
literary  women.  This  brilliant  little  biography  is  strongly  written.  Unlike  pre- 
ceding writers  —  German,  French,  and  English  —  on  the  same  subject,  the  author 
does  not  hastily  pass  over  the  details  of  the  Platonic  relations  that  existed  between 
the  Countess  and  the  celebrated  Italian  poet  '  Alfieri.'  In  this  biography  the 
details  of  that  passionate  friendship  are  given  with  a  fidelity  to  truth,  and  a  knowl- 
edge of  its  nature,  that  is  based  upon  the  strictest  and  most  conscientious  inves- 
tigation, and  access  to  means  heretofore  unattainable  to  other  biographers.  The 
history  of  this  friendship  is  not  only  exceedingly  interesting,  but  it  presents  a 
fascinating  psychological  study  to  those  who  are  interested  in  the  metaphysical 
aspect  of  human  nature.  The  book  is  almost  as  much  of  a  biography  of  '  Alfieri ' 
as  it  is  of  the  wife  of  the  Pretender,  who  expected  to  become  the  Queen  of  Eng- 
land."— Hartford  Times. 

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ifamous  Women  Series. 


MARY   WOLLSTONECRAFT. 

BY 

ELIZABETH     ROBINS     PENNELL. 

One  volume.    16mo.   Cloth.   Price  $1.00. 


"  So  far  as  it  has  been  published,  and  it  has  now  reached  its  ninth  volume,  the 
Famous  Women  Series  is  rather  better  on  the  whole  than  the  English  Men  of 
Letters  Series.  One  had  but  to  recall  the  names  and  characteristics  of  some 
of  the  women  with  whom  it  deals,  —  literary  women,  like  Maria  Edgeworth, 
Margaret  Fuller,  Mary  Lamb,  Emily  Bronte,  George  Eliot,  and  George  Sand ; 
women  of  the  world  (not  to  mention  the  other  parties  in  that  well-known  Scrip- 
tural firm),  like  the  naughty  but  fascinating  Countess  of  Albany ;  and  women  of 
philanthropy,  of  which  the  only  example  given  here  so  far  is  Mrs.  Elizabeth 
Fry,  —  one  has  but  to  compare  the  intellectual  qualities  of  the  majority  of  English 
men  of  letters  to  perceive  that  the  former  are  the  most  difficult  to  handle,  and 
that  a  series  of  which  they  are  the  heroines  is,  if  successful,  a  remarkable  col- 
lection of  biographies.  We  thought  so  as  we  read  Miss  Blind's  study  of  George 
Sand,  and  Vernon  Lee's  study  of  the  Countess  of  Albany,  and  we  think  so  now 
that  we  have  read  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Robins  Pennell's  study  of  Mary  Wollstone- 
craft,  who,  with  all  her  faults,  was  an  honor  to  her  sex.  She  was  not  so  consid- 
ered while  she  lived,  except  by  those  who  knew  her  well,  nor  for  years  after  her 
death ;  but  she  is  so  considered  now,  even  by  the  granddaughters  of  the  good 
ladies  who  so  bitterly  condemned  her  when  the  century  was  new.  She  was 
notable  for  the  sacrifices  that  she  made  for  her  worthless  father  and  her  weak, 
inefficient  sisters,  for  her  dogged  persistence  and  untiring  industry,  and  for  her 
independence  and  her  courage.  The  soul  of  goodness  was  in  her,  though  she 
would  be  herself  and  go  on  her  own  way  ;  and  if  she  loved  not  wisely,  according 
to  the  world's  creed,  she  loved  too  well  for  her  own  happiness,  and  paid  the 
penalty  of  suffering.  What  she  might  have  been  if  she  had  not  met  Capt. 
Gilbert  Imlay,  who  was  a  scoundrel,  and  William  Godwin,  who  was  a  philosopher, 
can  only  be  conjectured.  She  was  a  force  in  literature  and  in  the  enfranchise- 
ment of  her  sisterhood,  and  as  such  was  worthy  of  the  remembrance  which  she 
will  long  retain  through  Mrs.  Pennell's  able  memoir."  —  R.  H.  Stoddard,  in  the 
Mail  and  Express. 


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JFamous  OTtomen  Strict 

HARRIET   MARTINEAU. 

By  Mrs.  F.  FENWICK   MILLER. 

i6mo.    Cloth.     Price  $1.00. 


"  The  almost  uniform  excellence  of  the  '  Famous  Women  '  series  is  well  sus- 
tained in  Mrs.  Fenwick  Miller's  life  of  Harriet  Martineau,  the  latest  addition  to 
this  little  library  of  biography.  Indeed,  we  are  disposed  to  rank  it  as  the  best  of 
the  lot.  The  subject  is  an  entertaining  one,  and  Mrs.  Miller  has  done  her  work 
admirably.  Miss  Martineau  was  a  remarkable  woman,  in  a  century  that  has  not 
been  deficient  in  notable  characters.  Her  native  genius,  and  her  perseverance  in 
developing  it ;  her  trials  and  afflictions,  and  the  determination  with  which  she  rose 
superior  to  them  ;  her  conscientious  adherence  to  principle,  and  the  important 
place  which  her  writings  hold  in  the  political  and  educational  literature  of  her  day, 
—  all  combine  to  make  the  story  of  her  life  one  of  exceptional  interest.  .  .  .  Willi 
the  exception,  possibly,  of  George  Eliot,  Harriet  Maitineau  was  the  greatest  of 
English  women.  She  was  a  poet  and  a  novelist,  but  not  as  such  did  she  make 
good  her  title  to  distinction.  Much  more  noteworthy  were  her  achievements  in 
other  lines  of  thought,  not  usually  essayed  by  women.  She  was  eminent  as  a 
political  economist,  a  theologian,  a  journalist,  and  a  historian.  .  .  .  But  to  attempt 
a  mere  outline  of  her  life  and  works  is  out  of  the  question  in  our  limited  space. 
Her  biography  should  be  read  by  all  in  search  of  entertainment."  —  Professor 
IVoods  in  Saturday  Mirror. 

"The  present  volume  has  already  shared  the  fate  of  several  of  the  recent  biog- 
raphies of  the  distinguished  dead,  and  has  been  well  advertised  by  the  public  con- 
tradiction of  more  or  less  important  points  in  the  relation  by  the  living  friends  of  the 
dead  genius.  One  of  Mrs.  Miller's  chief  concerns  in  writing  this  life  seems  to 
have  Deen  to  redeem  the  character  of  Harriet  Martineau  from  the  appearance  of 
hardness  and  unamiability  with  which  her  own  autobiography  impresses  the 
reader.  .  .  .  Mrs.  Miller,  however,  succeeds  in  this  volume  in  showing  us  an  alto- 
gether different  side  to  her  character,  —  a  home-loving,  neighborly,  bright-natured, 
tender-hearted,  witty,  lovable,  and  altogether  womanly  woman,  as  well  as  the  clear 
thinker,  the  philosophical  reasoner,  and  comprehensive  writer  whom  we  already 
knew." —  The  Index. 

"  Already  ten  volumes  in  this  library  are  published  ;  namely,  George  Eliot, 
Emily  Bronte,  George  Sand,  Mary  Lamb,  Margaret  Fuller,  Maria  Edgeworth, 
Elizabeth  Fry,  The  Countess  of  Albany,  Mary  Wollstonecraft,  and  the  present 
volume.  Surely  a  galaxy  of  wit  and  wealth  of  no  mean  order  !  Miss  M.  will 
rank  with  any  of  them  in  womanliness  or  gifts  or  grace.  At  home  or  abroad, 
in  public  or  private.  She  was  noble  and  true,  and  her  life  stands  confessed  a  suc- 
cess. True,  she  was  literary,  but  she  was  a  home  lover  and  home  builder.  She 
never  lost  the  higher  aims  and  ends  of  life,  no  matter  how  flattering  her  success. 
This  whole  series  ought  to  be  read  by  the  young  ladies  of  to-day.  More  of  such 
biography  would  prove  highly  beneficial."  —  Troy  Telegram. 


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RACHEL. 

By  Mrs,  NINA  H.  EENNAED. 
One  Volume.    16mo.    Cloth.   Price,  $1.00. 


"  Rachel,  by  Nina  H.  Kennard,  is  an  interesting  sketch  of  the  famous 
woman  whose  passion  and  genius  won  for  her  an  almost  unrivalled  fame  as 
an  actress.  The  story  of  Rachel's  career  is  of  the  most  brilliant  success  in 
art  and  of  the  most  pathetic  failure  in  character.  Her  faults,  many  and 
grievous,  are  overlooked  in  this  volume,  and  the  better  aspects  of  her  nature 
and  history  are  recorded."  —  Hartford  Courant. 

"The  book  is  well  planned,  has  been  carefully  constructed,  and  is 
pleasantly  written."  —  The  Critic. 

"  The  life  of  Mile,  rtlisa  Rachel  Felix  has  never  been  adequately  told, 
and  the  appearance  of  her  biography  in  the  '  Famous  Women  Series '  of 
Messrs.  Roberts  Brothers  will  be  welcomed.  .  .  .  Yet  we  must  be  glad  the 
book  is  written,  and  welcome  it  to  a  place  among  the  minor  biographies ; 
and  because  there  is  nothing  else  so  good,  the  volume  is  indispensable  to 
library  and  study."  —  Boston  Evening  Traveller. 

"  Another  life  of  the  great  actress  Rachel  has  been  written.  It  forms 
part  of  the  •  Famous  Women  Series,'  which  that  firm  is  now  bringing  out, 
and  which  already  includes  eleven  volumes.  Mrs.  Kennard  deals  with  her 
subject  much  more  amiably  than  one  or  two  of  the  other  biographers  have 
done.  She  has  none  of  those  vindictive  feelings  which  are  so  obvious  in 
Madame  B.'s  narrative  of  the  great  tragedienne.  On  the  contrary,  she 
wants  to  be  fair,  and  she  probably  is  as  fair  as  the  materials  which  came  into 
her  possession  enabled  her  to  be.  The  endeavor  has  been  made  to  show  us 
Rachel  as  she  really  was,  by  relying  to  a  great  extent  upon  her  letters.  .  .  . 
A  good  many  stories  that  we  are  familiar  with  are  repeated,  and  some  are 
contradicted.  From  first  to  last,  however,  the  sympathy  of  the  author  is 
ardent,  whether  she  recounts  the  misery  of  Rachel's  childhood,  or  the  splen- 
did altitude  to  which  she  climbed  when  her  name  echoed  through  the  world 
and  the  great  ones  of  the  earth  vied  in  doing  her  homage.  On  this  account 
Mrs.  Kennard's  book  is  a  welcome  addition  to  the  pre-existing  biographies 
of  one  of  the  greatest  actresses  the  world  ever  saw."  —  N.Y.  Evening 
Telegram. 

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Boston. 


JFamous  0Homnx  Scries, 


MADAME    ROLAND. 

By  MATHILDE    BLIND, 

AUTHOR    OF    "GEORGE    ELIOT'S    LIFE." 
One  volume.     i6mo.     Cloth.     Price,  $1.00. 


*'  Of  all  the  interesting  biographies  published  in  the  Famous  Women  Series, 
Mathilde  Blind's  life  of  Mme.  Roland  is  by  far  the  most  fascinating.  .  .  .  But 
no  one  can  read  Mme.  Roland's  thrilling  story,  and  no  one  can  study  the  character 
of  this  noble,  heroic  woman  without  feeling  certain  that  it  is  good  for  the  world  to 
have  every  incident  of  her  life  brought  again  before  the  public  eye.  Among  the 
famous  women  who  have  been  enjoying  a  new  birth  through  this  set  of  shor* 
biographies,  no  single  one  has  been  worthy  of  the  adjective  great  until  we  come 
to  Mme.  Roland.  .  .  . 

"We  see  a  brilliant  intellectual  women  in  Mme.  Roland;  we  see  a  dutiful 
daughter  and  devoted  wife  ;  we  see  a  woman  going  forth  bravely  to  place  her  neck 
under  the  guillotine,  —  a  woman  who  had  been  known  as  the  '  Soul  of  the  Giron- 
dins ; '  and  we  see  a  woman  struggling  with  and  not  being  overcome  by  an  intense 
and  passionate  love.  Has  history  a  more  heroic  picture  to  present  us  with  ?  Is 
there  any  woman  more  deserving  of  the  adjective  '  great'  ? 

"  Mathilde  Blind  has  had  rich  materials  from  which  to  draw  for  Mme.  Roland's 
biography.  She  writes  graphically,  and  describes  some  of  the  terrible  scenes 
in  the  French  Revolution  with  great  picturesqueness.  The  writer's  sympathy 
with  Mme.  Roland  and  her  enthusiasm  is  very  contagious;  and  we  follow  her 
record  almost  breathlessly,  and  with  intense  feeling  turn  over  the  last  few  pages 
of  this  little  volume.  No  one  can  doubt  that  this  life  was  worth  the  writing, 
and  even  earnest  students  of  the  French  Revolution  will  be  glad  to  refresh  their 
memories  of  Lamartine's  '  History  of  the  Girondins,'  and  again  have  brought 
vividly  before  them  the  terrible  tragedy  of  Mme.  Roland's  life  and  death."  — 
Boston  Evening  Transcript. 

"  The  thrilling  story  of  Madame  Roland's  genius,  nobility,  self-sacrifice,  and 
death  loses  nothing  in  its  retelling  here.  The  material  has  been  collected  and 
arranged  in  an  unbroken  and  skilfully  narrated  sketch,  each  picturesque  or  exciting 
incident  being  brought  out  into  a  strong  light  The  book  is  one  of  the  best  in  an 
excellent  series. "  —  Christian  Union. 


For  sale  by  all  booksellers.     Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt 
of  price  by  the  publishers, 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY,  Boston. 


famous  f©omcn  £erie& 

SUSANNA   WESLEY. 

By  ELIZA   CLARKE. 

ONE    VOLUME.     l6mo.     CLOTH.      PRICE,   $1.00. 


The  "  Famous  Women  Series,"  published  at  a  dollar  the  volume  by  Roberts 
Brothers,  now  comprises  George  Eliot,  Emily  Bronte,  George  Sand,  Mary  Lamb, 
Margaret  Fuller,  Maria  Edgeworth,  Elizabeth  Fry,  the  Countess  of  Albany,  Mary 
Wollstonecraft,  Harriet  Martineau,  Rachel,  Madame  Roland,  and  Susanna  Wes- 
ley. The  next  volume  will  be  Madame  de  Stael.  The  world  has  not  gone  into 
any  ecstasies  over  these  volumes.  They  are  not  discussed  in  the  theatre  or  hotel 
lobbies,  and  even  fashionable  society  knows  very  little  about  them.  Yet  there  is 
a  goodly  company  of  quiet  people  that  delight  in  this  series.  And  well  they  may , 
for  there  are  few  biographical  series  more  attractive,  more  modest,  and  more  profit- 
able than  these  "  Famous  Women."  If  one  wanted  to  send  a  birthday  or  Christ- 
mas gift  to  a  woman  one  honors,  — whether  she  is  twenty  or  sixty  years  old  need 
not  matter,  —  it  would  not  be  easy  to  select  a  better  set  than  these  volumes.  To 
be  sure,  Americans  do  not  figure  prominently  in  the  series,  a  certain  preference 
being  given  to  Englishwomen  and  Frenchwomen;  but  that  does  not  diminish  the 
intrinsic  merit  of  each  volume.  One  likes  to  add,  also,  that  nearly  the  whole  set 
has  been  written  from  a  purely  historical  or  matter-of-fact  point  of  view,  there  being 
very  little  in  the  way  of  special  pleading  or  one-sidedness.  This  applies  especially 
to  the  mother  of  the  Wesleys.  Mankind  has  treated  the  whole  Wesley  family  as 
if  it  was  the  special,  not  to  say  exclusive,  property  of  the  Methodists.  But  there 
is  no  fee-simple  in  good  men  or  women,  and  all  mankind  may  well  lay  a  certain 
claim  to  all  those  who  have  in  any  way  excelled  or  rendered  important  service  to 
mankind  at  large.  Eliza  Clarke's  life  of  Susanna  Wesley  tells  us  truly  that  she 
was  M  a  lady  of  ancient  lineage,  a  woman  of  intellect,  a  keen  politician,"   and 

f>rofoundly  religious,  as  well  as  a  shrewd  observer  of  men,  things,  and  society  at 
arge.  .  .  .  Her  life  is  that  of  a  gifted,  high-minded,  and  prudent  woman.  It  is 
told  in  a  straightforward  manner,  and  it  should  be  read  far  beyond  the  lines  of  the 
Methodist  denomination.  There  must  have  been  many  women  in  Colonial  New 
England  who  resembled  Susanna  Wesley ;  for  she  was  a  typical  character,  both 
in  worldly  matters  and  in  her  spiritual  life.  —  The  Beacon. 

Mrs.  VVesley  was  the  mother  of  nineteen  children,  among  whom  were  John, 
the  founder,  and  Charles,  the  sweet  singer,  of  Methodism.  Her  husband  was  a 
poor  country  rector,  who  eked  out  by  writing  verses  the  slender  stipend  his  cleri- 
cal office  brought  him.  Mrs.  Wesley  was  a  woman  of  gentle  birth,  intense  reli- 
gious convictions,  strong  character,  and  singular  devotion  to  her  children.  This 
biography  is  well  written,  and  is  eminently  readable,  as  well  as  historically  valuable. 
—  Cambridge  Triburw.. 

Sold  by  all  booksellers.  Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of 
the  price,  by  the  publishers, 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY,  Boston. 


famous  UDomen  £>ctic$. 

MARGARET  OF  ANGOULEME, 

QUEEN    OF   NAVARRE. 
By  A.   MARY  F.   ROBINSON. 

One  Volume.     16mo.     Cloth.     Price,  $1.00. 


The  latest  addition  to  the  excellent  "  Famous  Women  Series  "  is  a  sketch  of  the 
Queen  of  Navarre,  one  of  the  most  deservedly  famous  women  of  the  sixteenthcen- 
tury.  In  political  influence  she  is  fitly  compared  to  Queen  Elizabeth  of  England 
and  Margaret  of  Austria;  and  as  to  her  services  to  religion,  she  has  been  referred 
to  as  "  the  divinity  of  the  mtt  religious  movement  of  her  time,  and  the  upholder  of 
the  mere  natural  rights  of  humanity  in  an  age  that  only  respected  opinions."  The 
story  of  this  remarkable  woman  is  here  told  briefly,  and  with  a  discrimination  that 
does  credit  to  the  biographer.  —  Times-Star,  Cincinnati. 

Margaret  of  Angouleme  furnishes  a  noble  subject,  which  has  been  ably  treated. 
Miss  Robinson's  sketch  proves  thorough  research  and  a  clear  conception  of  her 
work,  possessing  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  characters  and  events  connected  with 
that  peiiod.  She  is  in  sympathy  with  every  movement,  and  explicit  in  detail,  being 
strictly  confined  to  facts  which  may  be  authentically  received.  .  .  .  This  excellent 
biography  is  a  source  of  enjoyment  from  the  first  page  to  the  last,  and  should  be 
read  by  every  student  and  lover  of  history.  It  abounds  in  instructive  and  enjoy- 
able reading,  furnishing  a  valuable  addition  to  this  popular  series.  —  Utica  Press. 

One  of  the  most  readable  volumes  thus  far  in  the  "  Famous  Women  Series  " 
has  just  been  published  by  Roberts  Brothers.  It  is  Mary  F.  Robinson's  "Life 
of  Margaret  of  Angouleme,  Queen  of  Navarre."  Judging  from  the  fifty  different 
authorities  that  the  writer  has  consulted,  it  is  evident  that  she  has  taken  great 
pains  to  sympathize  with  the  spirit  of  the  era  which  she  describes.  Only  a  warm 
imagination,  stimulated  by  an  intimate  knowledge  of  details,  will  help  an  author 
to  make  his  reader  realize  that  the  past  was  as  present  to  those  who  lived  in  it  as 
the  present  is  to  us.  Miss  Robinson  has  compiled  a  popular  history,  that  has  the 
easy  flow  and  lifelike  picturesqueness  which  it  is  so  often  the  aim  of  the  novelist  to 
display.  Such  books  as  this,  carefully  and  even  artistically  written  as  they  are, 
help  to  fill  up  vacant  nooks  in  the  minds  of  those  who  have  read  large  histories  in 
which  personal  biography  can  hold  but  a  small  place ;  while  at  the  same  time  they 
give  the  non-historical  reader  a  good  deal  of  information  which  is,  or  ought  to 
be,  more  interesting  than  many  a  fiction.  Nor  does  Miss  Robinson  estimate  the 
influence  of  Margaret  of  Angouleme  wrongly  when  she  traces  the  salvation  of  a 
nation  to  her  mercy  and  magnanimity.  — A7.  Y.  Telegram. 

It  is  reasonable  and  impartial  in  its  views,  and  yet  clear  in  its  judgments.  The 
immense  importance  of  Queen  Margaret's  influence  on  the  beginnings  of  modern 
thoughts  in  France  is  clearly  set  forth,  but  without  exaggeration  or  undue  empha- 
sis. Miss  Robinson  is  especially  happy  in  her  portrayal  of  Margaret's  complex 
character,  which  under  her  hand  becomes  both  human  and  consistent;  and  the 
volume,  although  small,  is  a  valuable  addition  to  the  history  of  France  in  the  six- 
teenth century.  —  Boston  Courier. 


Sold  by  all  booksellers.      Mailed,  post-paid,  on  receipt  of 
price,  by  the  publishers, 

LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND   COMPANY,  Boston. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATF 
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